


Matchmaker

by PickleandtheQueen



Category: Dragon Ball Z
Genre: Complete, F/M, Family, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-04
Updated: 2015-06-13
Packaged: 2018-02-07 12:10:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 50,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1898487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PickleandtheQueen/pseuds/PickleandtheQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Cell Games, Gohan takes it upon himself to help his mother out of her stagnant love life - and what better way to do that than find her a date for Bulma's annual party? Come to think of it, Piccolo's going stag too... Can Earth's greatest hero find them both dates in time? /Eventual Chiccolo (PCc) Mild-mod language, some sexual humor and mild themes. I own nothing./ COMPLETE June 13, 2015</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One – Thrown Together Letters ("Uh-Oh!" Junior Doctor)

**Author's Note:**

> Previously Posted on Fanfiction.net, under username ShireWulf.

" _Whew_! That math problem was a doozy," Son Gohan set his pencil down in relief and leaned back in his chair, folding his hands behind his head as he did so. "Well, I'm all done now." He beamed down at his tidy paper; wait until his mother saw this! She would be so proud of - Gohan frowned. Would Chichi be able register something so trivial as his perfect math homework as a reason to rejoice? He suddenly was not so sure. She had been so… _off_ …of late. Ever since Goten… The elation he had been experiencing only moments before began to drain away like used bath water, only to be replaced by a cold, uncomfortable numbness. " _What were you thinking, Dad_?" he murmured, dark eyes swiveling to stare out the window. Gohan shook his head; whatever Goku had been thinking, and however he had gotten the idea, the boy would ponder forever. Rubbing his temples slowly to clear his mind of thoughts pertaining to his father, the preteen stood, gathering up his studies and exiting the room. He closed the door carefully behind him; he needed to clean up and the last thing he wanted was his mother finding the mess of boxers, sparring outfits, socks, and general clutter. The boy shuddered. "Mom! I finished my homework! Do you want to see it?"

"I'm with the baby!" she called from down the hall, where Gohan's highly-trained hearing picked up on the faint noises of Goten resisting a new diaper. "Hold _still_ ," he heard his mother growl at the infant. Gohan tucked his work under his arm and hurried down the hall to his parent's bedroom. Or at least, what had been his parent's room up until a year ago. Not bothering to knock, the boy strode into the master bedroom-and-nursery. His mother hovered over Goten, attempting to wrestle a diaper onto the three month old. He couldn't help but giggle.

"Do you want any help, Mom?"

"What?" Chichi stood straight, momentarily abandoning her task and taking her attention off of Goten. "Oh, no, dear, that's quite alright, everything's under -"

Taking full advantage of his freedom, Goten gurgled happily and released a stream of pee which arced like a fountain, splattering gracefully on to his already frazzled mother's arm.

Gohan's eyes bugged out of his head as he watched his mother's face, waiting for the explosion. He saw it coming... _any second now_... Detonating in _three, two_...

"On second thought," Chichi's voice shook with an odd tone, stuck somewhere between laughter and tears, "can you finish changing him?" Gohan nodded fervently and gently pushed his mother to the bathroom. She had handled that quite nicely.

"I'll leave my work on your bedside table, okay?"

She nodded before turning on the faucet and shutting the door.

Gohan turned to his baby brother who lay naked on the changing table, burbling gleefully at his little trick.

"I sure hope you're empty," Gohan said, nodding to the infant. "I already took my bath today, thanks." He quickly wrapped the baby boy in a new diaper, moving too quickly for the infant to gather any resistance. Gohan hoisted the baby into his arms, cradling him carefully as he made his way over to the stack of infinitesimal shirts, trousers and socks. After picking a promising outfit - a striped polo with soft cotton shorts - Gohan returned with Goten to the changing table. He stuffed the wriggling infant into his clothes and placed him under his arm. "Let's go play outside, _huh_?" Goten gurgled, staring up at his older brother's face. "I'll take that as a 'yes' then."

**...*...**

Goten couldn't sit up without aid yet, so Gohan sat behind the baby on the lawn. He beamed down at his little brother, the spitting image of his father, even at the tender age of three-months. Same chin, nose, and silly grin. Despite his own resemblance to Goku, Gohan couldn't help but feel a little jealous. He had his mother's eyes - and her brains, which he couldn't complain about, as well as her softer facial structure. "I wonder if you're going to be a genius like me, or a goof-ball like Dad? What do you think, Goten?"

The baby said nothing, of course. "Job," Gohan whispered; nothing. "Books," not even a blink. "Food." Goten gurgled and clapped his pudgy little hands. "Well, that settles that!" Gohan chuckled, picking the baby up under the arms and swinging him up in the air as he rolled onto his back. Goten shrieked in delight, making all of the cute happy baby sounds Gohan loved so much.

A shadow fell across Gohan's face, blocking out the sun. The boy blinked, and Goten's mouth opened in a loud coo of what was presumably confusion.

Gohan craned his head back, squinting to make out the face silhouetted by the sun. He smiled. It was the ears that gave it away.

"Hey Piccolo."

"Hey Kid."

" _Burgaloo_!"

Piccolo's deep throated chuckle was a wonderful sound, he thought, sitting up and adjusting his hold on his brother. Piccolo knelt down next to him, rolling back off of his knees and settling himself on his behind.

"Hello to you too, Goten." The warrior rumbled.

"He wants you," Gohan held out the infant to the Namekian. Goten screeched, waving his chubby hands at Piccolo.

" _Greeee_!"

Piccolo hesitantly took the giggling infant from Gohan's hands. Goten promptly snatched at Piccolo's oversized ears, crying when the Namekian pulled his face away from the grabbing fingers. Piccolo turned a glare on Gohan, but the boy recognized it as one of Piccolo's _"Look what I do for you"_ glares, rather than an actual threat.

"What are you doing here, Piccolo?" he asked, shifting closer to his friend and mentor. "I don't think you've come around since Mom made you change Goten's diaper."

The Namek shrugged, materializing a chew toy for Goten in hopes of preventing a famous Son-Family-tantrum. The baby took the toy, instantly forgetting the allure of Piccolo's ears. He stuck the brightly colored object in his mouth and gummed it heartily.

"I was in the neighborhood. Thought I'd drop in and check on you."

"That's sweet," Gohan slumped lazily against Piccolo's side, enjoying the warmth emanating from the Namekian. He ignored Piccolo's grunt of annoyance. It was all for show anyway. "Done anything fun lately?"

"Not unless you count mediating as fun."

Gohan giggled.

"You're boring, Mister Piccolo."

Piccolo's ears flicked. This time in genuine annoyance.

"Don't start that nonsense again, Kid."

"Right-O, Pick-oh-lo," Gohan sang back, positively glowing. Annoying Piccolo was his favorite past time, after all. It had been a really long time since the Namek had visited the Son household, although Gohan had flown by the Lookout several times. He hoped that Piccolo would stay a while, maybe until dinner. He was just about to suggest it when the front door opened, pushed to the side by his mother's hip. She was carrying an overflowing bin of garbage and other waste.

**...*...**

"Gohan, honey, it's time for Goten's –"she grunted as the bin lodged itself in the door – "Nap!" With a mighty shove, the little woman forced herself and the garbage bin through the door jamb. "And I need you to run some errands for me in town." Chichi set the bin down, straightening and turning to face her sons for the first time. She blinked, noticing Piccolo. She was surprised to see the tall, quiet Namek on her lawn. "Oh, hello, Piccolo," she offered him a polite smile which he returned with a nod of his head. Wondering briefly on his presence, Chichi continued. "As I was saying, I need you to go to the store and pick up the things on this list," a brightly colored scrap of paper was dug out of her pocket, cramped with her tight penmanship, "and run to the post office. I'm expecting a package from Grandpa."

"Can Piccolo come with me?" Gohan asked as he stood up.

Chichi raised an eye brow, but nodded.

"If he wants to. Now go put your brother to bed."

Gohan nodded and dashed inside the house, after taking Goten back from the Namek and begging him to wait. Chichi turned her attention to the compost heap down-wind from the house, barely stifling a groan at the sheer distance she now had to carry the heavy bin. There was, however, nothing else for it, and she stooped, bending at the knee and lifting the garbage with seeming ease.

Piccolo's sharp ears caught the noise of dismay. Before Chichi could take more than three stumbling steps with the massive garbage bin, Piccolo had taken it from her. He pointedly ignored her protest, and emptied the waste upon the compost heap. Silly woman was really going to hurt herself one of these days. He turned to address his friend's mother, trying his very best to appear tame.

"How," he paused, not entirely sure what to say. "How are you?" Piccolo privately remembered the emotional wreck she had been the few times he had stopped by to offer his assistance prior to and immediately following Goten's birth. "You look," Piccolo frowned; he had been going to say 'tired,' as was appropriate for the single mother of a three-month old half-Saiyan. However, 'tired' was too soft an adjective. Dark circles had formed around her once fiery eyes, her hair was untidy, and her cheek bones were far more noticeable than ever before. She wasn't what he would call 'gaunt,' but she had lost a noticeable amount of weight. " _Thin_ ," he finished quietly. Chichi frowned, and he knew she had recognized that it wasn't a compliment.

"My body can't keep up," she explained, crossing her arms self consciously across her chest. "It's like everything I eat goes right to Goten."

"Isn't Gohan helping?" Piccolo jerked his head towards the house. Gohan was inside now, putting the baby to bed.

"Yes," Chichi ran a hand over her exhausted face, "but Gohan can only do so much, and he can't feed him. That and the lack of sleep are killing me. I'm actually shocked I haven't gone dry yet, honestly." There was a bitterness in her voice he couldn't quite comprehend. He wasn't quite sure what she had meant by going "dry," nor did he wish to ask. Gohan had once explained to him that human mothers fed their young offspring with their bodies, but he hadn't let the boy finish. He allowed the silence to drag out between them. It didn't bother him, but she shifted slightly.

"How are you?" Piccolo tried again, hoping that Gohan would hurry up and personally wondering why he had agreed to accompany the boy into town.

"I got peed on today," she answered tiredly. An exhausted little smile played across her lips for a moment.

"Oh," his ears flicked in distaste. "Well that's…" He had no response other than: "Well, that's better than the other thing."


	2. Chapter Two – How Long are you gonna Hesitate? ("How Long" – Matchbox 20)

"I'm back!" Gohan called in a stage whisper from across the yard as he shut the door carefully behind him. "Come on, Piccolo." He looked to where his mother and best friend stood, crinkling his nose. Piccolo would probably smell like compost. _Not cool_. Bounding across the yard, he barreled into Piccolo, nearly sending them both into the rank compost heap.

"Watch it!" Piccolo snarled, stumbling away from the disgusting smelling slop. Gohan shook his head.

"Come _onnnn_ we have to go so we can get back and you can stay for dinner!" he exclaimed, throwing grammar and proper sentence structure to the wind. "You'll stay for dinner, won't you? Can't he, Mom?" Gohan swiveled his head to look at his mother. She nodded slowly. Gohan whooped and dragged Piccolo skyward.

"Gohan! Did you grab money?" Chichi called up after them. Gohan called back an affirmative and grinned at Piccolo, who growled at him. It took the two Z Fighters a matter of minutes to traverse the skies over the little mountain town. _No wonder they did so much gardening at home,_ Gohan mused, as he watched the countryside fly by beneath him. It probably took his mother hours to travel this distance! It was a pity that she had never learned to fly. Maybe he could teach her...

"Your mother barely has the energy to stand, let alone fly," Piccolo's deep voice broke through his thoughts. Gohan startled, turning his head to stare at his friend.

"Gee, Piccolo, I forgot that you can hear it when I think too loudly."

"I can hear you when you think in _general_ ," came the Namekian's grumbled reply. "You never think 'quietly,' Kid."

Gohan grinned sheepishly, angling downward as the town came into view below them. He caught Piccolo rolling his eyes at him, but ignored it. That grumpy exterior was a farce, and Gohan knew it. As his feet touched down on solid earth, something in Piccolo's words flared up to the forefront of his mind.

"Wait, what did you mean by that; 'she can barely stand?'"

Piccolo stared incredulously at Gohan, and the boy felt like a four year old again. "What?" He repeated.

"She's sick."

"N-no she isn't."

"Gohan," Piccolo was giving him a rather odd look. "Have you looked at her? She's too thin."

Gohan immediately conjured an image of his mother in his mind. She looked fine. Or at least...

"Sh-she has been...tired," he mumbled, remembering how defeated she'd looked after Goten's sprinkler display. "And she doesn't get as excited over my studies anymore."

"Hmph, you probably didn't notice since you've been with her every day," Piccolo said gently. Gohan nodded, suddenly guilty. How could he not have noticed? Wasn't he helping enough? Would it be different if...? "Probably." Again with the mind reading! "It's not my fault that you can't keep your thoughts to yourself." He wondered if it was only Piccolo, or if other telepaths could hear him too. "It's just me."

"Okay, please stop." Gohan snapped and crossed his arms. "Let's just go to the post office, and then the grocery store."

"Sorry Kid." Piccolo sounded genuine enough. It wasn't his fault that he was obnoxious. "I am not obnoxious."

"Yes, Pic, yes you are. And you love it."

 

...*...

The post office workers scrambled about like headless chickens as they scurried to and fro, searching for the Son family mail. Piccolo was making them nervous. The thought brought a twinkle to Gohan's eyes. Piccolo would never, _ever_ hurt anyone. At least, he corrected himself, as long he was around Gohan, he wouldn't dare to so much as swat a fly.

"H-here you ar-are Mister Son, sir." The nervous postman handed Gohan a stack of mail. Mostly bills, some envelopes that might have been cards, and a large box, presumably the package his mother was expecting from Grandpa. Gohan nodded his thanks, turning around and handing the items to Piccolo. The former demon glared daggers at the boy, but a slight tilt of Gohan's head forced him to give in.

"Have a nice day!" Gohan called as he ushered Piccolo out of the tiny government building. "You just love to make people shudder, don't you, Piccolo?"

"I thought that man was going to wet himself," the Namek's voice held a certain amount of glee; Gohan knew that he was likely the only person who would be able to pick up on such a subtle lilt in Piccolo's tone.

"You've still got it, Sir."

The grocery store was much the same as the post office, with the cashiers shaking at the sight of Piccolo. The novelty of a seven foot tall green man had long since worn off on the Son boy, and apparently the small noises of fear were beginning to irritate Piccolo, who snarled nastily at the bagger to hurry it up. "Or I'll eat you," he had added the threat. Gohan couldn't tell if he was being genuinely nasty, or putting on a show for his own amusement.

Piccolo carried the mail, Gohan the groceries. The duo flew slowly, Gohan setting the pace deliberately. He tried to use the excuse of being careful with the food. But he knew that Piccolo saw through it. No, the boy wanted to think.

"Do you," he hesitated, then began again, "Do you think I'm not doing enough to help?"

"You can't replace your father, Gohan."

"I know I can't," Gohan angled his body so he flew closer to Piccolo. "But I thought I was doing enough, I _thought_ I was doing everything I could to help Mom out, but now I'm not so sure." He looked pleadingly at Piccolo, imploring his dearest friend for guidance. For a moment, Gohan thought that Piccolo was going to brush him off, ignore him as he was prone to do when he didn't know the answer.

"Your mother is prideful woman," he replied, surprising the boy. "I'm sure that there is more that you are capable of doing, but she'll never let you."

Gohan nodded. That sounded like Chichi. "If possible, convince her to let you keep Goten with you during the day, allowing her to catch up on lost sleep."

"That's a good idea, Piccolo! But, what if he gets hungry? I can't… _feed_ …him, and Mom won't buy formula, so I  _really_  can't feed him." He saw the look of confusion on Piccolo's face, and opened his mouth to explain, but the Namek shook his head, signifying that he did not want to know anything more on the subject. "That could work though," Gohan rambled, "we do have bottles, I wonder if it's like a cow where –" But Piccolo had heard enough; he made a small noise of distress before picking up speed and pulling ahead of Gohan. The boy grinned evilly. Oh how much fun his little demon was to torment...

Their feet touched down on the front lawn.

" _Mom, we're home_ ," Gohan had to set the groceries down to open the door. He picked them up, peering inside. It was dark. Concerned, Gohan stepped across the door frame, feeling Piccolo right behind him. "Mom?"

There was thump, a small hissed curse word that he couldn't make out but made Piccolo chuckle, and a light flicked on in the living room. Chichi was pushing herself up off the couch awkwardly. A large book lay on the floor – the source of the thumping noise, Gohan decided. "Sorry we woke you, you can go back to sleep."

"No, no I'm fine. That nap was more than enough." She was lying, Gohan thought as she tried to stifle a yawn. "Oh good, that package came from Dad." Gohan watched as Piccolo set the stack of mail down on the kitchen table. His mother immediately began sorting through it, placing bills in one pile, cards and letters in another. "That's odd," she murmured, picking up two identical envelopes, both large and a bright, shimmering blue. "This one's addressed to you, 'Daimao Piccolo, Jr.'"

"But I don't live here," the Namekian muttered, taking the envelope.

"That's Bulma's handwriting!" Gohan piped up.

"Oh," Chichi's face fell slightly as she opened the invitation – for that was what the metallic envelope contained. "It's for Bulma's party."

There had not been a party last year, Gohan remembered. Bulma had canceled it in honor of Goku's death.

"Bulma must have sent your invite to us since you don't have a house, Piccolo," Gohan said, moving to stand next to his mother. He examined the elegant invite, reading the message scrawled beneath the general information.

_Chichi and Gohan -_

_I insist that you two come and join us. I haven't seen either of you since Goten's first check up in the city. My fault of course. Too busy. Ugh. Anyway, I'm expecting you. And don't use Goten as an excuse to stay home, Chi. I have arranged for a reputable nanny to care for Trunks and Goten while you and Gohan enjoy yourselves._

_Talk to you soon,_

_Bulma_

_PS – I sent Piccolo's invite to you guys since Gohan's the only one who ever knows where he is. And make him come too. He needs to socialize._

_~BB_

Gohan giggled.

Piccolo scowled.

Chichi shook her head at them both.

"I'm not going," the Namek said flatly. "I absolutely  _detest_  parties."

"Ooh, good vocab word, Piccolo!"

* * *


	3. Chapter Three – Going Down Swinging ("Sugar We're Going Down" – Fall Out Boy)

Chichi rolled her eyes. _Boys_.

"Don't be ridiculous, Piccolo. You're going." She didn't even have to turn around to know that he was glaring at her. The woman could feel his intense eyes on her back. In earlier years, it would have made her skin crawl. Now, however, Chichi could barely suppress the urge to roll her eyes. "And don't you give me that look Mister."

She heard Gohan stifle a giggle.

"I most certainly am not going; parties are abhorrent wastes of time better spent." Chichi actually had to cover her mouth to stop the laughter escaping her mouth. She wondered if he was pointedly ignoring her order to stop staring at her with the devil eye. Definitely. Yep, those were definitely his eyes boring  _right_  through her. Lovely. Still, she couldn't pass up this opportunity to poke fun at the warrior.

"Did you borrow one of Gohan's vocabulary books?" she choked, "you just used two rather advanced words in the span of about a minute." Chichi turned around, leaning against the table. The corner of her mouth twitched in an attempt to hide a warm, if tired, smile.

Piccolo rolled his eyes.

"For your information I am an incredibly intelligent individual with _three extra sets_ of knowledge added to my own." He looked so indignant it was actually comical; arms crossed, brows arching and eyes rather wide. A definite flush was visible on his face. "And I'm _not_ going to Bulma's absurd little get together."

" _Relax_ , Tiger," Chichi teased, "and don't fret your little green head. I'm sure you'll look absolutely dashing in a tux." She winked at him. "Is that what you're worried about? Looking silly?"

Gohan's eyes were wide, although she wasn't sure if he was terrified that he'd have to restrain the Namekian from killing her or if it was mere mirth at her boldness.

"You are incorrigible, Chichi. Incorrigible."

"Mom, please leave him alone. I'm not sure I can stop him if he tries to kill you."

Piccolo rolled his eyes, and Chichi shook her head. She was well aware that the boy was more than capable of handling the Namek. She was also confident that Piccolo wouldn't do more than growl at her. Still, she relented.

"Alright, fine. But," she poked Piccolo in the chest, "this discussion is not over, got it? Now help me make dinner. Gohan, you're on table duty. Piccolo, toss your weights outside. I'm putting you in charge of heavy and high items."

" _Rrah_ ," the former demon turned around and opened the door, shedding his weighted cape and turban on the door step. "I hope you trip," he muttered, shooting Chichi an annoyed glance.

"Oh shut up." She cleared the mail off of the table, into a designated basket and set the invitation on the top of the pile. Chichi paused, staring at it for a long moment. She shook her head, turning away from the envelope and began ordering the boys around.

Gohan cheerfully obeyed his mother's commands, setting the table properly, as was expected in Son Chichi's house. His feet never touched the ground, a fact that made him rather pleased with himself. Flying was a breeze, but the precise movements required for hovering around the house without breaking anything was a far more complex practice. He was very close to mastering it. Despite his personal glee in regards to his own improving skills, the boy kept a careful eye in his mother. Piccolo was right; she was moving a little more slowly, and had indeed lost not only weight, but muscle as well. And there he was, clueless to her inner plight. Gohan floated across the floor, around Piccolo and stopped next to mother. He took a large tray from her hands.

"I'll take that, Mom." he said firmly, but holding a gentle smile on his face.

"Don't eat it," she warned, giving him a long hard look. Gohan's eyes flicked down to the contents of the tray for the first time. Instantly, his mouth filled with fluid and his stomach gurgled hungrily.

"N-no problem," he replied as he eyed the succulent steak. Gohan swallowed. Even the short walk to the kitchen table would be torturous! _Don't look at it, do not inhale. Don't drool either. Do not engage, do not engage, do not -_ Goten wailed from the bedroom. "I'll get him!" Gohan squeaked, hurriedly setting the roasted dinosaur steak down and zipping off down the hall to the master bedroom. Chichi and Piccolo did not even have time to speak before the boy was gone.

Gohan hooked himself over the baby's crib, cooing at the wee babe in an effort to stop his screams. "Are you hungry? Do you need a changing?" Goten momentarily stopped crying and blinked at him, before screaming bloody murder again and flailing his little fists around in the air. "Ohh, there, there Goten." Gohan lifted the baby up, bouncing him gently. His nose crinkled as a rather nasty aroma assailed his nostrils. " _Phew_ , you stink!" It only took a few minutes to clean and change the baby. Cradling the now quiet Goten in his arms, Gohan headed back to the kitchen; it was almost time for his feeding, and the baby would want to be the center of attention. Hearing the shushed sounds of an argument, Gohan paused, ducking behind the wall and peering out into the kitchen.

"I still don't understand why it means so much to you that I go the stupid party." Piccolo hissed, voice so low that Gohan had to strain his ears to hear him. Not only was the Namek whispering, but his back was facing the boy, shoulders hunched as he helped Chichi with something on the table. "If you're not concerned about Gohan being entertained, I don't understand why you're pushing _me_." He had placed an odd stress upon the pronoun. "It's not like there will be strangers -"

Chichi cut him off, slamming a fist down on the table. He couldn't get a clear look at her face as her bangs obscured his view, but Gohan knew from the line of her slant of her neck that she wanted to end the conversation.

"I just don't to be  _alone_!" There was a definite hint of angry tears in her voice. "And  _don't_  say that Gohan and all of my friends are going to be there; you  _know_  what I  _mean_." What did she mean? Gohan frowned, puzzling over her words. "I've barely been out since Goku left." Oh. "And if you come, at least I know I won't be the only one there without a  _dance partner_!"

"Alright, alright.  _Fine_. But I'm only giving in now since you'll just tell Gohan to unleash his powers of persuasion on me. I'm not in the mood to lose out to his damned puppy face." Piccolo sighed, and Gohan saw some tension leave his mother's body. "Do I really have to wear one of those..." the Namekian paused, apparently searching for the proper term, "tuxedoes? Those form fitting pants do not suit me. And the jackets are far too tight across the shoulders."

Gohan was relieved to see his mother smile at his long time friend. She still looked like any small trigger would send her into hysterics, but the smile was enough to distract him from that, just long enough for a small plan to form in his over active mind.

...*...

Dinner passed without much excitement; Piccolo only ate a small amount of salad and drank a tall glass of juice, while Chichi had a normal helping of everything, with Gohan finishing off the rest of the meal. Chichi had excused herself from the table when Goten began to fuss, and took the baby down the hall to feed him.

"I'm heading out, Kid." Piccolo said as he helped Gohan stack dishes in the sink. "Stop by the Lookout tomorrow and we'll spar."

The boy nodded.

"Yes sir!"

"And Gohan..." the Namek gave him a sidelong glance. "What is this 'plan' that struck you while you eavesdropped?"

Gohan flushed, once again, his thoughts had leaked! Piccolo ought to teach him how to block. "I'll show if you come to the Lookout tomorrow." The half-Saiyan laughed quietly. Of course.

"As for my plan, I'll tell you tomorrow, there are some serious details I still need to work out. And as for blocking, yes. This whole accidental sharing thing is going to be  _pretty_  awkward for you when I hit puberty for real. Or can you not hear me if we're far apart?"

"Uh," Piccolo's nose crinkled, and Gohan giggled as he tried to imagine what the Namekian was thinking in regards to 'puberty.' "It's worse when we're together. Otherwise I typically only hear you if you're panicked or calling me directly." Piccolo dried his hands on a towel, tossing it down on the counter and preparing to leave. "See you tomorrow, Kid."

"Cool. Hey don't you want to say goodbye to mom?"

"No." Gohan tilted his head to the side, bangs falling away from his eyes. Piccolo glared at him. "Don't even think about it. I will punch you so hard, your  _father_  will feel it if you so much as dare to use the puppy face for something so trivial."

"That's nice," Chichi's voice cut into the conversation. Piccolo's ears twitched in what Gohan assumed to be annoyance. He watched a muscle spasm on Piccolo's jaw before he turned around. The boy snickered, knowing full well that the surly Namekian was blushing.

"I'll come by sometime next week," Piccolo grumbled, sounding utterly defeated. Gohan always did find it amusing how easily the Namek caved, even if it was only for a select few people, mainly the Son family. It was a pity he had missed the first half of the conversation between the warrior and the housewife. "Although I can't possibly see how Goku's old tuxedo is going to fit me." There was absolutely no way that was going to work.

"I can always make alterations," Chichi offered. "It wouldn't be perfect but -"

"As soon as I see what they look like I can make one easily enough. Save yourself some trouble." He started for the door.

"I'll see you around noon?" Gohan piped up before he had quite reached it.

"Sure Kid. Night."

"Bye," Chichi said softly. "And shut the door quietly, Goten's in the light sleeping stage." A shadow of her usual bossiness seeped into her voice, but it was only enough to make the Namek's ears twitch as he exited, slowly pulling the heavy door closed behind him.

"Bed time, Mister."

"Aww but  _Mommm_!"

...*...

She didn't want to look at the clock. She really had no desire to discover at what ungodly hour her baby had awoken. Kicking off the covers and stumbling out of bed, Chichi swallowed a whimper. It was so cold. She murmured sweet nothings to the wailing infant as she made her way over to him. He could not _possibly_ be hungry, could he? Of course he could. He was Goku's son, after all. She was not entirely sure that her body would be able to continue this schedule much longer. Why was it this much harder this time? With Gohan, she had been eager. Excited. Exhausted by the end of it, but enthralled. Gathering the baby up from his crib, she proceeded to feed him. Goten latched on immediately and suckled greedily. Chichi sighed, walking back over to her bed.

She loved him. Just as much as Gohan, she really did. He was so beautiful, so  _damn_  beautiful. She looked at him and was filled with so much love she thought her heart would burst. Whenever he gurgled and raised his round brown eyes to hers, she wanted to cry, that was how much she loved him. Chichi wanted nothing more than to hold him all day long, to nurture him, to raise him into another little gentleman, like Gohan.

But she really did not want to raise this baby by herself. She shook her head, blinking rapidly. No time for such thoughts. Not now.

Chichi felt her eyelids drooping. There was no way that she would be able to make it back over to Goten's crib. Sleep was stealing over her. She knew she could not fight it. Goten's high pitched little yawn tipped her over the edge, especially when he nuzzled closer to her motherly warmth. Chichi wrapped her arms protectively around her youngest, even as sleep took her.

She only wished there was someone there to hold her, too...

Chichi awoke the next morning when Gohan burst into her room, gabbing excitedly about something. She jolted awake, quickly covering her exposed chest and adjusting her hold on Goten.

"Morning, Baby," she gasped, the sleep surprised right out of her. Goten cooed happily. "Morning, morning."

"Oops," Gohan blushed. "Sorry Mom!"

"I-it's fine, sweetie." Chichi swallowed a yawn, "what were you saying?"

"I had a really good dream," her eldest said sheepishly, and she barely stopped her eyes from rolling. "I was a really successful scientist and I found a way to use Piccolo's regenerative abilities – like in his blood and whatever – to save people with third degree burns all over their bodies! Like growing back the skin and repairing nerve endings. I even got a Nobel Prize!"

"And _how_ ," Chichi asked with a bemused smile on her face as she handed off the infant to her eldest, "did you get Piccolo to donate his freaky alien genetics to the betterment of society?"

"Oh," Gohan bounced Goten in his arms, "yeah, well, I had to knock him out first. He didn't like…needles in my…dream." The smile faded from his face to be replaced by a frown. Chichi caught the look on his face. _So he **wasn't** as over it as he had been acting._ "That's funny actually."

"Gohan," she said quietly, "I miss him too."

The boy nodded. She patted the mattress beside her, and Gohan sat down next to her. She pulled him and Goten into her lap, fiddling with Gohan's hair. "It's okay to miss him, honey."

"Hey, Mom?"

"Mmh?"

"Were you this tired when I was a baby?"

"No," Chichi sighed, when did Gohan get so heavy? "I was in a different place emotionally, and I…" She trailed off, eyes stinging. It hurt. It hurt to think about Goku, even after a year. It hurt to admit to her son that she was having trouble coping, although she suspected that he knew some of it.

"You…had Dad, last time."

"Yeah."

Chichi tilted her head to the side, resting her cheek against Gohan's temple. She looked down at her two precious angels, and it was easy to be angry at Goku, no matter how much she wanted to forgive him. _But she couldn't_. She kissed Gohan's forehead. They remained that way for a long time, Goten even slipping back into slumber.

"What time are you going up to the lookout?" Chichi asked after the comfortable silence turned stale. "I'll pack you a lunch and some extra for Dende, Piccolo and Mister Popo."

"Oh," Gohan shifted his head slightly, "no, Mom don't bother with that! Mister Popo loves to cook and since he's only had Namekians for the past three hundred years or whatever he hasn't had the chance to recently. He'll jump at the chance to feed a prepubescent Saiyan." Chichi gently shifted him off of her lap and took the slumbering infant from him. She stared at her son with suspicion.

"Spill it."

"Spill what?" his gaze shifted slightly from hers. "I just don't want you doing anything extra. That's all. I just want you to sit down on the couch with Goten and read through that stack of books I gave you for your birthday that you haven't touched yet."

She stared incredulously at the boy. Did he really think she had the time to do nothing? Why, there were dishes to wash, floors to polish, windows to clean, toilets to scrub, homework to grade, - oh God, she hadn't graded any of Gohan's assignments from the past three days. There was absolutely no way she had any free time to squander on relaxation.

"Gohan, I can't possibly –"

"Take a nap, watch a movie?"

That sounded pretty nice, actually, a nap. Chichi allowed a sigh to escape.

"Alright, _fine_. I'll take it easy. You'd better get ready, I know how Piccolo hates to be kept waiting."

Gohan beamed up at her, leaned forward and kissed her cheek.

"Promise me you'll take it easy today, Mom?"

She nodded, kissing his forehead.

"I promise."

...*...

Piccolo felt the boy coming, and shifted out of his meditative trance.

"He had better be ready for a spar," he muttered, rolling his head from side to side, reveling in the sound of his neck realigning itself. Piccolo cracked his knuckles and shook the sleepiness from his legs. "Hey, Kid."

"Hi Piccolo," Gohan said as he landed on the tiles of the Lookout. He was clad in Piccolo's colors. Indeed, he had even donned his training weights. _If it weren't for the skin and the hair…_ Piccolo shook his head.

"Thought you'd have been here an hour ago."

"It's only half-past-noon!" the Saiyan argued, crossing his arms. "I had to make Mom breakfast, and lunch, and then clean up."

"She let you?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty shocked too."

The Namek shrugged. Good, she was not as hard headed as he thought. The boy would not be distracted during a spar, and, more importantly, he need not  trouble himself about the obnoxious little woman.

"Ready to spar?"

"What, _here_?" Gohan's forehead crinkled incredulously. " _Now_?"

"No, not here idiot, island. And yes, now." The boy's musings were drifting through their rapport, but were such a jumbled mess he couldn't understand anything. "Spit it out."

"You know that's the second time today someone's said that to me."

Piccolo aimed a kicked at the boy. He aptly dodged it.

"Spill it, Kid."

Gohan bit his lip, and looked up at Piccolo rather sheepishly. The Namekian's stomach twisted in apprehension. Nothing good could come out of that look. Absolutely _nothing_. Then the Kid said it. The sentence he had somehow known Gohan would say. And the very one he had been _dreading_ to hear.

"I think we need to jumpstart Mom's love life."


	4. Chapter Four - And it Won't Take Long to Burn... ("All Eyes On Me" - Goo Goo Dolls)

Piccolo stared incredulously at Gohan. His heart thumped painfully in his chest, once, twice, almost like it had ceased its movements. He blinked. Mouth open. Closed. Ears twitched. Piccolo slowly crossed his arms.

"What...do you mean...'we'?" The Namek had half a mind to tell the boy that Chichi was _his_ mother, _not_ Piccolo's, and therefore was _his_ problem. He opened his mouth to say so, but Gohan beat him to the punch.

"Please Piccolo, just hear me out!" His jaw snapped shut with an audible click of his fangs. Gohan smiled up at him, relief plastered upon his features. Stupid Kid. "See, Mom's tired because she's lonely, and she's lonely because she misses Dad." Piccolo folded his legs up underneath him, floating above the surface of the Lookout. This was going to take a while. "And if she's not missing Dad, she's mad at him, or taking care of Goten, who just reminds her of Dad..." Piccolo half listened; he had long since learned to filter the boy's ramblings and would know when the point was finally reached. While Gohan prattled on about this or that or another thing pertaining to his mother, Piccolo enjoyed the feel of the wind tugging at his cape, brushing past his ears and tickling his face. Finally, Gohan's senseless babble seemed to draw to a close, and the Namek's brain tuned back in to the conversation. "I'm not suggesting we arrange a marriage or anything, just find her a date to Bulma's party."

Piccolo raised an eyebrow.

"I still don't see how nor why this involves my assistance. I know nothing about your silly little human rituals."

Gohan stuck his tongue out at the Namek. Piccolo narrowed his eyes. Anyone _else_ whom dared to show him such disrespect would be in some serious agony - and bleeding. But this was Gohan. And Gohan was allowed to walk all over him. God only knew why.

"Come on Piccolo, you _like_ Mom now!"

"I _tolerate_ your mother. I do not _like_ her." That was not entirely true, but the boy was less proficient at reading his thoughts, so it mattered little.

"But," Gohan frowned, giving him a rather knowing look, "you guys are getting along now, doesn't that mean -"

" _No_." That was a dangerous direction.

"You consider her a friend. If you didn't, you wouldn't have given in and agreed to go to the party." Gohan looked a little too smug for his liking.

Piccolo's face screwed itself up in as dangerous a glare as he could muster.

" _Think what you will, Kid_ ," he growled in response. It was his only hope of ending the conversation. And a feeble hope at that. Gohan, the infuriating creature that he was, plopped himself rather forcefully into Piccolo's lap. The warrior grunted. He was getting too big for this. A few stray thoughts from the boy's mind seemed to agree with Piccolo.

"So you'll help?"

" _How_? How could _I_ possibly be of any assistance **what** soever?"

Gohan tilted his head back, meeting Piccolo's gaze.

"You have a car, and a driver's license." The Namek felt his skin pale to a rather unhealthy shade of yellow. How on earth did Gohan know about that? He hadn't told anyone that! Not even - "Dende told me."

Of course. Dende. That spying little _wretch_. He supposed that the young deity would know about that escapade, seeing as it had not exactly been out of the little god's sight... He would have to be more careful in future endeavors.

"So does Krillin," Piccolo muttered, attempting to save face. "And Yamcha. Regardless, both you and your mother can ride Nimbus. _And_ you can fly her anywhere. So we're back to the beginning. Why do you need _me_?"

Gohan, head resting against Piccolo's bicep, rolled his eyes, as if the Namek was the one being stupid. He began to explain his logic slowly. So slowly, in fact, that Piccolo almost punched him.

"Any form of flying messes up her hair so that's out. Krillin is going out with 18, so he's _busy_. And if Yamcha's not playing baseball then he's hitting on women. Not a good option for Mom. I don't _think_ Yamcha would flirt with her, but..." Gohan's brows furrowed slightly. "Well the Dragon won't grant the same wish twice. Since you don't have much of a social life, you're my most viable option."

Piccolo, although finding Gohan's argument slightly weak, had no real counterpoints. He knew he had lost. Any second now, the boy would use his most deadly weapon to seal the deal. It was almost better to concede defeat now and maintain at least _some_ of his dignity. Besides, Gohan was right. He had no social life outside of interacting with Popo, Dende, and Gohan. And he kept even those interactions to a minimum. The Namek was about to relent when Gohan tilted his head. He saw it coming, the damned look. Not the puppy face... He tried not to look. But therein lay the problem. Not looking. The pull of the boy's dark eyes was impossible to resist, and Piccolo looked, hating himself the whole time. _Oh please, don't add the kicked, abandoned, dying-of-a-broken-heart tears to the visage_. It was like looking at a half-drowned kitten. The Namek swallowed. He had already given in. This was bordering on torture. He had been hoping that the face's potency would diminish as the boy grew. So far, its effectiveness was untouched by time.

"Gohan."

The boy's eyes grew larger. _Impossible_.

Piccolo tried to blink. He felt like a mouse cornered by a cat.

" _You. **Owe**. Me._ " Piccolo growled, "And I mean big, Kid. You owe me _big_."

"So you'll do it?!" Gohan sat up, his knee digging into Piccolo's hip. The Namek grunted. _Ow_. "You'll help me?" The boy gasped, "You're the best Piccolo!" Gohan threw his arms around Piccolo's neck, nearly choking the Namek. "I can find _you_ a date for Bulma's too."

"No."

"Yep. I'm doing it. Mom only wanted you to go so she wouldn't be the only one without a dance partner. I don't want you to be by yourself."

"I'd rather just find your mother a date and not have to go at all," Piccolo muttered, reaching his arms up to disentangle the boy from his neck. He felt Gohan tighten his grip. He growled, low and rumbling in his chest, but Gohan ignored the warning in that innocent way of his.

"Mom already told Bulma that you're going."

"So what?" Piccolo snapped, pushing himself to his feet, Saiyan still dangling around his neck like some absurd necklace. "And I can tell you're lying, by the way. She hasn't RPVS'd yet."

Gohan giggled, the sound muffled in Piccolo's cape.

"It's 'RSVP' and I want you to go. Otherwise _I'll_ be lonely." Gohan dropped to the ground. "I'm going to go see Dende real quickly and then we'll go to the island, okay?"

"Sure, Kid," Piccolo straightened his cape, frowning after his little friend as the Saiyan zipped across the Lookout to the palace, wherein Dende was studying with Mister Popo.

...*...

They sat together in the shade of a cliff, breathing heavily. Piccolo, glancing down at his ruined gi, glowed with pride for his not-so-little student. Here was a child that could destroy the planet without breaking a sweat, and yet wouldn't dream of harming even the most insignificant of creatures. Unless it was for food, but that was a different story. Gohan's eyes were closed, and his breath was quickly returning to an average rate. Black hair was plastered to his forehead, rivulets of sweat trickling down his face and dripping off of the stubbornly upright spikes of his wild hair. Gohan's lips were set in a tired smile.

Piccolo took a moment to focus on himself, calming his still-thumping heart and heaving chest. Oh, how far the Kid had come.

"I didn't even...have to go...Super Saiyan, Piccolo," Gohan opened his eyes, "Pretty neat, huh?"

"Yeah," he admitted.

"So, what day are you coming over to," Gohan paused to draw a deep breath, "to look at a tux?"

Piccolo's nose crinkled, he hated human clothes! So tight, and thin. Fragile. The Namek shrugged.

"Wednesday? I don't know."

"Tuesday," Gohan replied, "it's closer." He watched as the boy squinted at the sun, judging its height by its angle to the horizon and the length of shadows. "Well," the boy sat up, grunting quietly as a bruised muscle protested, "I should probably go home and work on this whole blocking thing. Just think of a wall, huh?"

"Something solid and opaque, yes."

"And you'll help me convince Mom about this dating idea, _right_?" He glanced at Gohan's face, seeing the plea held on his every feature.

"Alright," Piccolo huffed, pushing the boy's shoulder. "But the moment she pulls out the Frying Pan from Hell I'm gone, got it?"

Gohan nodded vigorously.

"Deal." He turned to fly off, but Piccolo reached up and caught his arm. Gohan paused, turning to look quizzically at him, head tilting ever so slightly.

"Your clothes, Kid."

"Oh!" Gohan laughed, "I do look pretty beat up, don't I?" Piccolo nodded, smirking as the odd magics of the Namekians enveloped the Kid in a soft light. It soon disappeared, leaving the boy cloaked in an exact replica of Piccolo's own gi.

"Good as new." Gohan's bright eyes disappeared in his smile.

Piccolo rolled forward onto his knees, from there pushing himself to a standing position. "See you Tuesday," the Namekian said, voice a low rumble. He ruffled the pre-teen's unruly black hair, suggested a haircut, and watched with soft eyes as the boy blasted towards home. Once Gohan was out of site and range, the Namek groaned, cursing himself for becoming so invested in the boy and his family. It had been so much easier when it was just him. But, he supposed, conjuring himself a new gi, he could not change the past, nor would he if given the option. So he was stuck. Completely and utterly. Piccolo shook his head and took off for the Lookout, contemplating the new mess in which he found himself.

...*...

_"Absolutely **not** , Gohan!"_

"Mom -"

"And who's going to take care of the _baby_?"

"I can -"

"What's he going to _eat_?"

" ** _MOM_**." Gohan hissed in a loud whisper, "If you would just listen -"

Without meaning to, her voice rose above a quiet volume, increasing in pitch as she argued back.

"Gohan, I do not have the _time_ nor _energy_ for something so ridiculous! Do you really want me seeing someone? Really? It's been a _year_ , Gohan -" Her throat constricted, images and emotions bombarding her, and her son leapt in, speaking calmly.

"I'm just saying that it might be good for you to get out if the house, and you love to dance, Mom," Chichi met his pleading eyes. "You love to dance and you want someone to dance with at Bulma's." Alright, so he had a point, as always. Images of twirling around a room held in Goku's arms flitted across her vision. Those high flying, warm, wonderfully comforting moments… With yet another headache looming on the horizon, Chichi downright growled, sitting heavily down in a chair. She didn't have the energy to continue the argument. It did not help that Gohan undoubtedly had a rebuttal for each of her arguments.

"And _you_ ," she rounded on Piccolo, twisting in her chair to glare at the stoic green man reclining against the counter, "I suppose you're going along with this hare-brained scheme just so you don't have to go to the party?" Much to her satisfaction, Piccolo flinched. At least _someone_ was still afraid of her.

"Gohan's making me go regardless," he muttered, sounding completely defeated; even his ears were wilting. "I assure you, I'd rather not have anything to do with this business."

Chichi sighed, rubbing her temples furiously and clenching her jaw. She could _not_ agree to this! This, this _blind-dating_ scheme of her son's... It was just impractical. There was no need for her to be seeing anyone! And she was so damned tired, all of the time. It just was not something the woman could commit to at a time like this. What with the baby, Gohan's schoolwork, the house… Chichi opened her mouth, trying to decide exactly what she was going to say, how she could voice her issues.

"Why?" How disappointing. Why? Why what? She could feel the question settling in the suddenly heavy air around them. Almost like she could touch it. Palpable.

"You'll want to be a little more specific," Piccolo's low rumble rolled over her ears, although he kept his voice quiet.

"Why, Gohan," Chichi began again, trying to ignore Piccolo's eyes on the back of her neck, and simultaneously plotting a vast assortment of 'death by frying pan' scenarios, "do you want me to go on a series of 'blind dates?'"

Gohan smiled shyly at her, taking a seat across the table. He brushed dark bangs out of his eyes, and Chichi made a mental note to give the boy a haircut.

"Well," Gohan swallowed, "Piccolo and I were talking and we -"

"Do _not_ drag me into this, **_Boy_**. It was your idea." There was a definite growl in Piccolo's voice. She glanced over her shoulder at the prickled Namekian. His ears glowed a violent purple, the color bridging across face. Arms crossed, shoulders tense, jaw set in a queasy scowl. She frowned. What had his panties in a twist?

"Alright, alright," Gohan glared daggers at Piccolo. "It was my idea and I just wanted him to help out." He scratched the back of his head, a pink hue lighting up his cheeks and nose. " _But Piccolo put it in my head_ ," Chichi and Gohan pointedly ignored the outraged noise of protest from the Namek. "And then I…overheard…your guys' conversation the other night, and I started to think about stuff, and I thought that maybe," Gohan swallowed, "maybe you're lonely and… That you might like a break every now and then. Just once a week." Don't look at him. She could hear it in his voice. It was coming. The greatest weapon ever bestowed unto mankind.

" _Go_ - ** _haaaaan_** ," Chichi gritted her teeth, trying to stare through him, rather than at him. But those damned eyes. Had he ever tried this on enemies? Surely it would work… Quivering lip, wide, bright, shimmering eyes… Raven fringe fell across his forehead. No. No… She felt her resolve slipping, sliding away after each nanosecond of gazing into those hypnotic orbs. Could it hurt? Really hurt, to relax, live a little? She never had dated. It had been childhood, marriage to Goku, child number one, drama, widowhood, child number two, and now… Now what? Her mouth moved against her will, the words "okay, fine, I'll do it," tumbling out of open lips before she could swallow them. The Look vanished from Gohan's face, and Chichi muttered a vehement curse under her breath. Piccolo snorted behind her. Gohan grinned. "If I ever, and I mean _ever_ ," Chichi snarled, eyes narrowing, "hear you repeat that, I will kill you. Super Saiyan or not."

"Oh Mom," Gohan laughed, "Piccolo taught me _that_ one on my fifth birthday."

 


	5. Chapter 5: Don't Look Away, Look away, This Time ("Honey Let Me Sing You A Song" - Matt Hires)

Sharp ears twitched at the sounds of rustling fabric. Several muted noises of frustration could be heard from the closet. He leaned against the door jamb, eyes closed, head bowed, reluctant to take another step into the room. Chichi swore again.

"Stupid – damn – fucking _thing_!" Piccolo's ears flattened as the sounds of what were probably several boxes toppling off of a high shelf bounced off his eardrums. Chichi's muffled yelp almost made him pass through the door jamb, but her snarled oath not a moment later stayed his movements. Idiot woman was fine. Piccolo released a breath that he had not acknowledged holding.

"Do you," he hesitated, shuffling in place, "need any help?"

" _No_!" Infuriating woman. "I am perfectly capable of pulling my late husband's tuxedo out of its box! _Thank_ **_you_** ," she appeared out of the closet, nudging fallen debris roughly to the side. She had a large white package clutched tightly to her chest. His dark eyes followed her over to the dresser, where she laid the box down, almost reverently. His ears pricked, picking up on a quiet sigh. "Well, get over here!" Piccolo narrowed his eyes, brows tilted upwards ever so slightly. He distinctly remembered getting brained with a reading lamp last time he had fully entered this particular room. Chichi turned to glare at him. "Do you want to try the tux on or not? Get your green and pink ass in here." She pointed imperiously at the floor next to here, between Goten's crib and the dresser. Piccolo frowned. Chichi's slightly disheveled appearance both decreased his wariness and multiplied it tenfold. On the one hand, she lacked the strict, dictator air that he had learned to respect and fear, but the loose strands and stray hairs made her look like a madwoman. He gritted his teeth, but followed her orders. "About time," she muttered.

"Just give the damn monkey-suit."

She laughed, carefully unfolding the old white tuxedo and holding out each individual piece.

Now he was just confused. Chichi had been wonderfully kind when he had dropped by the week before, tolerable that evening, terrifying only moments before, and now she was laughing. Infuriating, confusing species, women, the Namek thought privately, taking the tux from her. He held the jacket out in front of him. "Does it…does it have to be…" his nose crinkled in distaste, "white?"

"No," Chichi replied, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning against the dresser. "Most are black. And _no_ , you're _not_ allowed to make it purple."

Piccolo's jaw snapped shut with click. _Damn it_.

"You can have a purple vest and tie if it makes you happy." Well, wasn't that nice of her, considering his feelings. For once. "Well, what are you waiting for? Either put it on, or doodle a pattern."

"Where's the bathroom?"

"What," Chichi uncrossed her arms, leaning forward ever so slightly. He did not like the look on her face, thin eyebrow arching delicately over her large brown eyes. It occurred to him that Gohan had inherited those eyes. He blinked. Damn. "Can't you just zap it on?"

"If I make it," Piccolo growled, "I can't zap on something that already exists. And this will be far too small," he held it up in front of him, the tiny white jacket barely stretched across his chest, let alone his shoulders. "It would rip. Shred."

"Well, zap-zap, Pixie." She jabbed one finger into his chest.

"Don't call me that. It's Piccolo or nothing." He handed her Goku's jacket.

Chichi took the white tuxedo, clutching it to her chest for a moment before folding it meticulously and placing it in its box. She traced the collar lovingly, breathing a deep sigh. Closing the lid, Chichi turned to face Piccolo once again, putting her mask back on. Sure, she was tired, and the Namek saw it, but that did not mean he had to see how much it hurt, every freaking day. "Got it, Chi?"

" _Chichi_ ," she corrected him, eyes flashing dangerously. " _That_ , is Goku's name for me. No one else may call me that, got it?"

"Then it's Piccolo."

"Put on the tux." She looked away, averting her gaze. "If you're too chicken to get naked in front of me, the bathroom is over there." She pointed.

He glowered at her, and she glared right back. Piccolo spun on his heel, stalking over to the tiny bathroom. Chichi watched him. "Hurry it up, Piccolo."

She actually smirked when he flipped a rather half-assed finger her way, "you don't really have a middle finger, you know."

A flash of light from the bathroom caught her attention. If that bastard had flown the coop, she would kill him, Demon King or not. Light footfalls, barefoot, padded across her eardrums. Piccolo walked out of the bathroom, and Chichi's eyes widened slightly, brows shooting up her forehead. Her lips parted slightly, forming an 'O' as she eyed the tall man in front of her. Her eyes, starting at his feet, traveled up his pant legs; this was the second time she had seen Piccolo in human clothes, and the first time they had fit. _Wow_ , _was that fabric supposed to_ \- Chichi blinked several times, _that_ was not an appropriate thought to entertain, at all.

"Well," Piccolo held out his hands, "how do I look?" The question snapped her back into reality. She shook her head, a jerk, and finished her inspection. White shirt, tucked into form fitting pants -that clever prick, the fabric reflected the light in a deep purple highlight - hidden behind a vest in his trademark violet color. A matching tie completed the outfit. The classy attire accentuated his broad shoulders while trimming his surprisingly small waist. What a difference from his usual loose, oversized fighting gi. _He really covered himself up..._ Chichi fumbled over words, placing a hand on her hip, using the other as a pointer.

"You, uh," she hesitated, "you look," Chichi blinked, searching for something to distract her from the man's appearance, "your tie isn't tied right." She stepped closer to him, "I'll fix it, hold on." She grabbed the tie and pulled, bringing him down to a more workable height. Piccolo grunted, but did not draw away from her. Chichi hurriedly fixed the violet tie, fingers expertly smoothing out any wrinkles in the material. "Th-there, all fixed up." She smiled at him, his dark eyes meeting hers. He did not move.

"Oh boy, am I interrupting something?" Chichi started, and Piccolo straightened. He looked confused. Chichi cleared her throat, backing away slowly. She bumped into the dresser. Gohan had a rather mischievous look on his face.

"I was _fixing_ his _tie_." The words came out rather defensively, too much so, she thought.

" _Ohhh_ ," Gohan grinned, bouncing Goten in his arms. "I was just going to get ready for bed, but I thought that I'd see what was going on." Chichi brushed past Piccolo to take the baby from her eldest, it was past the infant's bath time! That meant his bed schedule would be off... Oh bother! If he kept her up...

Stepping into the bathroom, Chichi nearly tripped over Piccolo's discarded gi pants. Swallowing a vile oath, she stumbled forward, catching herself. The movement upset Goten, whose face scrunched as he began to fuss.

" _Piccolo_!" Chichi patted Goten's back, trying to distract him from crying. "Come and get your damn clothes off the floor! They almost killed me!" her mothering sense of super hearing tingled, " _What did you say?_ " She did not receive an audible response from Piccolo. However, the purple fabric lifted from the tile and folded itself, zipping out of the room. "Thank you."

While bathing Goten, she listened to the quiet conversation on the other side of the door frame. It was the usual talk; fighting, power levels, meditation, etcetera. She noted that Piccolo pointedly steered the conversation away from the Cell Games, and even the Super Saiyan transformation. He always had been surprisingly in-tune to her son and his emotions. Goten splashed her, but it did little to distract her.

"Watch it, Kid. This will wrinkle."

Her ears perked at that. Craning her head to peer around the doorframe without moving from Goten, Chichi managed to catch sight of the two, and she smiled. Gohan had his arms wrapped around Piccolo's waist, while the Namekian ruffled the boy's hair patiently. She could not help but smile. At the same time, a pang of loneliness hit her in the chest. Gohan had Piccolo... But she was alone...


	6. You Turn, You Take you Heart and Walk Away ("The Mess I Made" by Parachute)

"Wait, so you'll help?" Gohan asked excitedly, clutching the phone tightly. Not _too_ tightly, he reminded himself before the fragile plastic could crack under his strength. "Thank you, Bulma, _thank you_! Mom was reluctant to let me meet people for her and Piccolo. Said that I'm just a kid and -" 

 _"Wait, Piccolo too?"_ Bulma's voice sounded fuzzy over the receiver _. "Well, I can try..."_  

"As long as she isn't too loud he should be okay," Piccolo was a reasonable person; smart, even witty when the moment took him. "Or ditzy. He hates ditzy people." He continued to babble for a few minutes, even as Bulma tried to interrupt him. "Oh, sorry, what?" Bulma laughed.

 _"I was just wondering,"_ she chuckled, and he frowned. _"Um, does... Does Piccolo, er, like girls?"_   Gohan's mouth opened slightly, closed, opened again, formed a tiny 'o' and crinkled. He turned around, leaning up against the kitchen counter, feet scooting out in front of him slightly as his socks failed to find a grip on the linoleum. "You mean... Is he gay?" 

 _"Essentially."_   There was a moment of silence where Gohan contemplated what he knew of the Namekian people. They were not truly male, and thus there was not the "lack" of females that so confused and fascinated the others in the group. The teen pursed his lips,

 "I can...ask..." Gohan had not considered such a thing, and was slightly embarrassed to have automatically assumed that Piccolo preferred females. He tilted his head to the side. If his suspicions were correct.... He shook his head, "I was going to go see him anyway. I'll find out."

~~~*~~~

"No I am not _'gay_ ,'" Piccolo snapped, brows furrowing. Human sexualities were so... The Namekian's ears flicked wildly as he shut down the thought. Humans were silly creatures, and that was the end of it. It did not help that he had little idea into what category Namekian sexuality would fall... Hell, he did not even know how other Namekians identified... It was getting complicated.  "The Hell put that in your head?" 

 "...Bulma..." 

Piccolo snorted, crossing his arms, shoulders hunching. " _So_ ," Gohan started, drawing out the word like an artist pulling paint across a canvas. "You like girls?"

  _"I don't know_!" The Namekian flushed furiously, twirling around to face out across the swirling expanse of sky, ignoring the far-below earth. His cape fanned out behind him as it was caught by the atmospheric winds. "I don't **_like_** _anyone_ , Kid. I like sitting quietly by the waterfall, and I like fighting. Not _people_."  He heard Gohan's skeptical thoughts. " _It's never come **up** before_ ," he muttered, ears burning. 

"Bulma also asked if you were actually a guy," Piccolo blanched, making a strangled noise of objection. "But I've seen you pee so that was one I could clear up by myself. Or at least simplify for Bulma, you know. Because I mean, I know stuff from Dende too, he told me a lot about Namekians -" 

He drew a hand over his face slowly, yanking at the skin as he did so, trying to figure out some way to save himself from the situation. This was ridiculous. Preposterous. Getting out of hand. And it had not even started yet, he realized, something akin to panic rising in his throat. He looked down as Gohan tugged on his cape. 

"What?"

 "Are you mad at me?"

  _Sigh_.

"Of course not," it was the situation, not the boy. Gohan, however, was not convinced, and Piccolo uncrossed his arms, ruffling the preteen's overly long black hair. "I'm not exactly thrilled that you suckered me into socializing. But no, I'm not angry with you."  The boy seemed content at that.

 "So...if you had to be stuck in a room with someone for two hours and you _didn't_ know how to utilize ki, or fight, what would you want them to be like?"

 "Not you," Piccolo shot back, a nearly nonexistent lilt in his vocal pattern signifying that he was teasing.

 "I'm being _serious_!" Gohan crossed his arms and stared up at him, face so indignant that it was _almost_ cute. Piccolo rolled his eyes.

 "How about we start with quiet?" he suggested, inwardly flinching at the idea of being yelled at by Chichi for two hours... Even ten minutes with that harpy shrieking at him would be torture. 

"And a girl? Or a -"

 " _Why not_?" It wasn't as if he had anything to lose, right?  Just his pride, dignity, and hearing.

~~~*~~~

Chichi stared at the woman in front of her, blinking stupidly back at her. Her own reflection. Cursing quietly at the shadows under her eyes and on her cheeks, she tore angrily at the blouse that hung limply off her shoulders. It had once hugged her curves in a most flirtatious manner... How was she supposed to go out on a date tonight looking like... The woman sighed, running a hand through her bangs. She just looked unhealthy.Chichi shook her head, shrugging the black blouse off of her shoulders. "At least," she muttered, dropping the offending garment to the floor, "I don't have to worry about shedding those last few pounds of baby-weight... God, even my breasts have shrunk..." Chichi sighed in defeat even as she tried to arrange her still-round but tiny attributes in a way to make them look more appealing. " _Please_?" Begging with the Girls deemed fruitless, and she abandoned it after a moment. "I, am going on a 'see-food' diet," the woman decided, taking one last look at her reflection, lamenting on the lost abdominals, or even biceps for that matter... "And, I am going to run, and do push-ups, and crunches... Oh who am I kidding? I don't have time to do anything."

A high-pitched wail cut through her thoughts. "I'm coming..." He was probably hungry. Again. Tugging a zip-up sweat jacket on, she made her way over to Goten's crib, where the blubbering baby bawled unhappily up at her. His chubby little cheeks, pink with whatever emotions were running around in that chunky head of his, dimpled in a smile as she leaned over him. He forgot his tears as Mommy lifted him up out of the crib, fingers reaching for her bosom. "Hold on, hold on," Chichi muttered, adjusting the baby into one arm as she unhooked the front clasp on her bra. Goten burbled happily and latched on. Chichi grunted, but her face softened as she looked down at the little baby. "Oof, Baby you're heavy... Ooh, I can do squats! _Yeah, Mommy can do exercise with Goten. What do you think?"_ Goten ignored her, far too interested in filling his insatiable belly. _"Let's go see what Mommy has to wear, huh? Mommy's got a hot date tonight. I have to look pretty. Yeah_." Chichi had long since learned to multitask, and was shuffling through her limited closest, baby in one arm. "Aw, I haven't worn this in years... No." She passed up a long gown, "Too dressy. Next! Oh God what was I thinking buying that? Nope. Oh, oh no." She paused, pulling a simple purple blouse off of the rack. "Okay, there we go..." Absorbed in her thoughts, she failed to pay attention when exiting the closet. 

"Gohan sent me up here to -" Chichi screeched and dropped the blouse, nearly losing her grip on Goten, who, unsurprisingly, continued suckling. Piccolo made a noise that was stuck somewhere between a yell and a pained grunt. She stared at him, eyes wide. Piccolo's face blushed a violent purple, and he spun around, spine rigid. The unhealthy violet spread to his ears. It took her moment to fully realize just how exposed she was; three-month old baby hanging off of one tit, and an oversized sweat jacket barely covering the other breast.  Oh good Lord, Piccolo had just seen her boobs. Oh God. Heat rushed to her face and she scrambled to cover herself up. "I apologize," Piccolo's gruff voiced sounded strained. "Should've knocked." 

 **"Damn right you should have knocked!"** Chichi hissed, detaching Goten, whom was not done with his meal and protested loudly. "The _Hell_ are you doing up here?!"

 "It's seven o'clock. I am supposed to pick you up." His back was still turned, shoulders stiff. A vein stood out on his neck. "You should have closed the door. Or better yet, had a _shirt_ on."

Her eyes narrowed at the emphasis placed on the word 'shirt.' Oh, so he wanted to turn this on her, did he? A small part of her brain argued that he had a point, but it was overruled most viciously. Forgetting the bra, the irate little woman zipped her jacket, marching right over to the Namek. She grabbed him by the shoulder - or tried to - and spun him around, pinning him against the wall.  **"Go. Down. Stairs**." Chichi thrust Goten into his arms, snarling in a stacatto "give him to Gohan and tell him to feed him. And change your _damn_ clothes." 

" _You_ gave these to me." 

 _" **AND NOW I AM TELLING YOU TO CHANGE!"**_  

Goten started to cry and, exasperated, Chichi shoved the Namekian roughly out if the room, slamming the door on his rear. She heard him swear, but take the baby down to the kitchen. Thoroughly finished, she slumped against the door, burying her face in her hands. A moment later, she ran a hand through her bangs, black fringe falling back down in front of her face. Her eyes fell on the forgotten blouse.

~~~*~~~

It only took Gohan a moment to calm Goten, although to Piccolo's sensitive ears, even that short amount of time had been horrendous to endure. Why did babies have to be this loud? For the love of all things good in this world...

"Um, Piccolo... What happened?" Gohan had stuck a bottle of previously prepared milk in his brother's mouth, and was now staring curiously the Namek. Piccolo crossed his arms over his chest and squeezed his eyes shut.

"Your mother is insane."

"That does _not_ answer my question."

"You're impossible."

"Just answer the question!"

Piccolo opened one eye just long enough to glare down at the children. Gohan merely cocked an eyebrow whilst Goten remained oblivious, sucking happily at the bottle.

"She was... _indecent_." He tread lightly upon the final word in his statement, attempting to gloss over the embarrasment. Play it down. It was not that big of a deal, afterall. Just his best friend's mother's...The image jumped back into his working memory, the rather vivid visual bombarding him. _No. Bad. Shoo..._

Thankfully, Gohan's explosive laughter jarred his senses, jerking him back to reality. "What?" He snapped, opening both eyes.

"Th-that's - haha, that's it?" His ears pinned as much as possible as the prepubecsent boy continued to guffaw in a most obnoxious manner.

" _Shuttup_." The phrase was ground out from behind tightly gritted fangs, escaping his mouth as one snarled word.

"It's not like you've never seen a _boob_ before! Remeber that one time at Kame House?" If the boy laughed one more time, he was going to punch him through a wall. Or maybe the floor. "S-s- _serious-ly,_ " Gohan was trying to contain his giggles, but was unsuccessful.

"This. Is. _Different_."

Gohan opened his mouth to reply, but a feminine voice from the hall cut him off.

"Get your green ass over here. We're going to be late."


	7. Keep Your Drink, Just Give Me the Money ("U+Ur Hand," - P!nk)

Piccolo actually had to force his eyes up, sucking in a deep gulp of oxygen in an attempt to diffuse the blush he felt crawling up his neck and cheeks. S _he was doing this to spite him, was she not?_ Hands on hips, fingers crinkling the beige fabric of her knee-length skirt, plum blouse puckering at the one place he absolutely did _not_ want attention being drawn to after his little...adventure.

"Couldn't believe this still fit," Chichi was glaring at him. He could not tell if the pink on her cheeks was an angry flush or makeup. He mentally kicked himself, desperately wanting to mediate and clear his mind of the image of her...taking care of Goten. The image of her pale face, paler with shock, her wide eyes and - _Goddammit_. "Time to go, don't ya think? It's 7:30."

Gohan tittered behind him. He turned to glare at the boy, but Gohan shoved him roughly towards the door.

"You're supposed to be there at 8:30, and it takes forty-five minutes to get to the city. Go get 'em Tiger."

Throwing the boy a look that would _literally_ freeze Hell over, Piccolo stalked towards the door.

"Have fun!"

He muttered an incredibly rude insult under his breath and pushed through the doorway, stepping out into the night.

"You're supposed to hold the door for a lady, Jerk."

Piccolo ignored her, fumbling around in the pocket of his jeans. "And I told you to change, you look like an idiot with those jeans. They're three inches too short in the least."

"Would you shut up?"

"Zap-zap some slacks that fit and a button down shirt and I might even be _nice_." The sheer amount of will power it took to restrain himself from strangling her was impressive in itself. The fact he possessed such self control was even more impressive. Honestly, what had gotten into her?

"Fine," he spat, tossing a capsule down to the ground. Chichi leapt back just as an SUV decapsulized itself between them. In the same moment, he materialized the suggested clothing on his body. His previous outfit - the infamous Postboy shirt and jeans, minus that Godawful baseball cap - landed in a neatly folded stack at his feet. "Happy?"

Chichi peered around the windshield. She looked shaken. _Good_.

"Much better," she sniffed, but he could read the forced nonchalance on her face. He grunted, opening the driver's side door and crouching to get in. He didn't even look at her as she clambered in beside him.

"Seat belt," he muttered.

He heard it click, and turned the key in the ignition. The engine protested, but started up. It was an older model. He had no use for anything newer. Within a few minutes, they were on their way to face whatever it was Bulma and Gohan had concocted for them.

"This isn't the type of car I would picture you in," Chichi said lightly after a long and rather awkward silence. He glanced at her, but did not respond. "Figured you be in some old muscle car."

Piccolo smirked.

"Not a lot of legroom," he explained, flicking the CD player. The low hum of music drifted out of the speakers, casually filling the space between them.

"Ah."

"I _am_ sorry," Piccolo said quietly, taking his eyes off the road for a moment as he glanced at her stiff form in the passenger's seat. "About earlier."

"It's fine." Her tone implied otherwise, but some of the tension left her shoulders. Piccolo carefully navigated the winding country roads, eyeing the bordering tree line for for deer and dinosaurs. The glow of the city was visible in the distance, distorting the sky above and covering the starlight with its artificial luminescence. "You like rock music?" It was painfully obvious that she was uncomfortable, trying feebly to make conversation.

"Yeah," he replied. "You?"

"Uh," Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her adjust her ponytail, tugging at the midnight tresses falling around her shoulders. "Yes, it's...alright."

"I don't want to do this either, just so you know."

She laughed then, and he smirked. The uncomfortable air, like the morning mist, left the space between them, dissipating.

"Some kid I have, huh?" Without looking, he knew she was smiling.

"Kid's a brat," he replied easily, the smirk shifting quietly into a small smile. "A damn good brat, but a brat all the same."

"Piccolo?"

"Hm?"

"Thanks."

"For what?" They were pulling into the city, lights and horns flashing and blaring across their eyes and ears.

"I don't know, for everything." Piccolo said nothing. What was he supposed to say? 'Everything' was rather vague, after all.

Navigating the city streets required his full attention, making his silence seem less strange. He would have preferred to go elsewhere for this stupidity, but Bulma had arranged everything. Gohan had just come up with the idea. Making a mental note to pound the boy into the dirt - or at least try - during their next sparring session, Piccolo searched for a place to pull over.

"This _isn't_ a parking spot!" Chichi pointed out the window at a sign. He rolled his eyes, ignoring her and putting the car in park. " ** _Piccolo_**!"

"Just get out of the car," he muttered, "I'm not leaving 'er here."

"Well what are you going to -"

As soon as Chichi was clear of the vehicle, he capsulized it, sticking the pod in his pocket of his dark slacks. "Oh, yeah I guess that works."

Piccolo snorted, then looked around. The city noises were annoying, but not intolerable.

"So, we're meeting these people...where, again?"

 

Chichi caught his arm, pulling him down towards the street corner. He grunted, but followed complacently behind her. She smiled over her shoulder at him, he stared back at her, raising an eyebrow, but she noted the slight upwards crinkle of skin around his mouth.

"The bar is on the corner Clark and Kent streets." She giggled, "That's cute."

"What is?"

"Clark Kent? You know, Superman."

He stared blankly at her. Bemused, Chichi reminded herself that the man had very little knowledge of pop culture. "Never mind, it's just a cute coincidence."

They were currently on Hero's Avenue, but a quick question to a friendly stranger pointed the odd couple in the right direction. "Here we go!" They stood in front of a bar, titled " _The Rice Cooker_." Chichi took one one look at the name of the place and burst out laughing. Piccolo groaned behind her.

"It even has the same _logo_ ," he complained, gesturing at the pink kitten pattern bordering the sign. Chichi tried to control herself, but the utter ridiculousness of the situation had completely consumed her. She was doubled over, holding her sides. It was a wonder how she remained standing!

"Oh, Bulma, - _heeheehee_ \- that's just, oh, aha, that's just mean!"

"Let's just get this over with."

She allowed him to push her through the tinted glass doors, still woozy from laughter. It dimly occurred to her that she would not have been able to stop him.

The inside of the bar was well lit, maybe a bit higher class than the average booze-and-burger joint. Chichi looked around appraisingly, approving of Bulma's choice in eateries. Casual, but classy. There even appeared to be room for dancing towards the back of the building. Fun.

"Do we know who we're looking -"

Chichi turned around to better hear Piccolo's quiet voice over the television and chatter, but she didn't need to answer. A young girl - Was she even twenty-two? Chichi thought, brows shooting up her forehead - came bounding over to them.

"You must be Piccolo," she said, peering around Chichi. "You really are green."

Chichi couldn't quite wrap her mind around why the girl's phrasing irked her, but it had.

"Well, he's an alien." Her hands found themselves on her hips, feet planted protectively shoulder width apart. The girl raised an eyebrow, giving her an odd look, before grinning honestly and offering Piccolo her hand.

"And here I was thinking you had dyed punk hair or something. Green's my favorite color. Oh, my name's Miso."

"Uh," Chichi glanced at Piccolo, whose expression was comically stuck somewhere between hidden confusion and barely-masked terror. She relaxed slightly as he took the girl's hand. "Hello."

"Wow, you're voice is so deep. It's like," Miso blushed, and Chichi had the distinct impression that the girl had never been in a relationship. Or even on a date. "Um, want to get a beer?"

"Uh," he glanced at Chichi, who smiled at him and nodded.

"I'm not your mother. Play nice with the other kids."

"Shut up," he snapped, even as the spunky girl dragged him bodily across the building towards the bar.

"A-and th-that would-would um m-m-m-make you-u Miss S-Son ah, Chi-Chichi," Chichi's head swiveled around to see her date, a slight twig of a man, with frizzy brown hair and glasses that made his already large hazel eyes appear to bug out of his head. "Pr-Professor Temp Ura. P-please, er, call me U-Ura." He wasn't sweating, so it wasn't nerves. The man simply had a stutter. She was not quite sure... _no, get to know the guy before passing judgement_.

"Drinks?" She asked, nodding towards the bar, where poor Piccolo sat hunched over a bottle of Guinness, and by the look of it, having his ears talked off by the nervous Miso. Ura nodded, hurrying ahead of her and pulling out a stool. How chivalrous, she thought, it had been a long time since someone had behaved in such a manner.

"What can I get you?" The bartender was a young woman, somewhere in her late twenties, with cropped blonde hair and a nose ring. Chichi asked for a virgin daiquiri and Ura had a Raging Bitch ale.

They made small talk, swapping histories. Chichi kept the subject of Goku limited, reluctant to delve too deeply.

"Y-You um, competed in th-the Te-ten-Tenkaiichi B-b-Budokai, er, twelve years ago, yes? When, um, the green fellow, Ma Junior - "

" - Piccolo -"

"What? Er," Ura adjusted his thick spectacles. "Um, yes, ah, Pi-Piccolo tried to t-take over the w-world, yes?"

"Mm," Chichi took a sip of her drink, enjoying the tangy sweetness of the beverage. "Yes, I lost in the semi finals against my fiancé."

"You m-married the man who d-de-def-defeated er, ah, Junior?" A cursory scan of his face revealed shock and intimidation. Obviously, this poor specimen of the human race was shocked that a woman used to muscles and strength would even glance at a string bean like Professor Temp Ura.

"Yes," Chichi replied quietly, stirring her drink. "He died a year ago."

"Oh," Ura set his beer down, "I am tr-truly sorry."

"Thanks," Chichi fiddled with her ponytail, "you, you said you were a professor? Like at a university?"

"Ah, y-yes," the mood lighted considerably, and she listened as Ura explained his life his job, only half interested. He was divorced, had never had kids, and was two years older than her. He was also rather dull. And a pacifist. Hm. Not someone with whom she wanted to spend an evening dancing. While quietly contemplating the proper protocol for turning down a second date she wondered how Piccolo was faring...

~~~*~~~

It was quite evident to the Namek that this girl was talking for the sake of noise, tittering neverously and downing a third beer.

"Doesn't alcohol impair judgment?" he interrupted her in the middle of some story about her 'precious pookiekinz' bull dog. Miso froze, staring at him before nodding, slowly putting her bottle of Shock Top back down on the bar. "This is your third. In an hour."

"I should probably slow down," she blushed, futzing with her necklace. "Thanks."

"Sure."

"You don't drink much?"

"Designated driver. So this," he nodded to the almost empty bottle, "is all I'm having. Although, she" Piccolo gestured to Chichi, "has an unweaned infant. So she shouldn't drinking period."

"Uh, she your friend?"

"Something like that." He shrugged, avoiding thinking about his relationship with Chichi. Piccolo took a sip of his beer and looked around the room for something to talk about. This was agonizing. His sharp eyes fell upon a television monitor, brows knitting together as he zeroed in on the news story.

"The Hell is that?"

"Huh?" Miso swiveled the bar stool, twisting at the hip to see what he was talking about, "oh, that," she flicked a stripe of dirty-blonde hair out of her eyes. "They're unveiling a statue for our Hero, Hercule Satan." Piccolo had to force a sudden surge of power down and let go of his beer to avoid embedding soon-to-be shattered glass in his palm. The bottle clanked slightly, swirling on its butt before settling. "Um, everything okay?"

"Just. _Peachy_." Piccolo clenched his fists and glanced over to Chichi, several seats down from them. She had yet to see the story. _Good_. The last thing he wanted was to hold the lunatic mother back from tearing the television right off the wall and hurling it into a crowd of innocent bystanders. He did not trust her to have left the frying pan at home, either.

"Uh, do you have something against Mister Sat - Wait!" She jumped out of her stool suddenly, pointing at him, "You were there! At the Cell Games! I knew you looked familiar." Thoroughly convinced at this point that the girl was either sheltered or stupid, he tried to gesture for silence. If she said the dreaded words, all Hell would break loose. "Yeah, and you got your ass handed to you by the little blue ones! Wait, that means you know the _Delivery Boy!_ "

He saw Chichi's posture go rigid, and he stood, hoping to prevent the woman from doing anything rash. The last thing Gohan needed was a mother in prison for assault.

" _ **What** did you say?_ " Chichi, too, was standing, glaring in his direction. Hopefully at Miso, not at him.

 _"Chichi_ ," he growled, aware the almost everyone in the bar was staring at them. An eerie hush, broken only by coughs, the rustling of fabric, and the low hum of the television, had settled in the atmosphere.

" _Don't you dare refer to my son as the ' **Delivery Boy.**_ **'** " Piccolo could not help but envy that snarl attempting to pass itself off as a human voice.

Miso and Ura looked terrified.

" _Chichi_."

"My son is a Hero. _Not. Some. Damn. **DELIVERY BOY**_." She wasn't screaming. It was actually intimidating how threatening she could be without screaming, without pulling out the frying pan.

"Hey lady," a burly man, bearded with a cigar butt hanging out of the side of his mouth, called out rudely, "why don't you calm down and sit your ass back on that bar stool? Have a damn drink," Piccolo groaned inwardly, not this, not tonight. "Hercule Satan's on the TV. If your son really is the Delivery Boy, then Mister Satan is the reason your brat - and the whole damn planet - didn't get blown to smithereens by that overgrown grasshopper freak!" The man turned to his buddies, "broads these days? Am I right?"

Oh no.

Oh no, no.

Not like this.

It happened far more quickly than the Namek could have imagined. Chichi snapped. Before he had time to grab her by the arm and calm her down, Chichi had decked the bearded man. How she had moved so quickly, he didn't know. Oh boy. Diving into the fray, ignoring the shocked noises of those watching the ludicrous spectacle, Piccolo looped an arm around Chichi's waist, attempting to pull her away from the floored giant. Her bony fist connected painfully with his nose, a loud crack ensuing. He knew it was his nose, and not her fist. Still, he almost hoped it was her hand, even as violet blood soaked his chest and her shoulder. Piccolo grunted as her elbow slammed into his ribcage, and dropped her when her heel connected with his crotch. She squirmed out of his grip and punched the instigator square in the eye.

" ** _Dammit Chichi_**!" Piccolo hissed, making a grab at her again. He caught her hip, twisting her around and hauling her bodily back, falling on his ass, the woman ending up on his lap, knees in his gut. Her flailing limbs, connecting continuously with his chest, ceased after a few painful moments, "Are we done?"

"Yes," she seethed, mad eyes glinting through her bedraggled bangs. Her muscles were still tense.

"Home?"

"Yes. I'll get my purse."

Cautiously, he let go of her, and Chichi stood up, brushed herself off, and stalked back to the bar counter, and snatched her bag from its surface. He followed suit, nodding to the frazzled Miso and bamboozled Ura.

"How much?" Piccolo asked the bartender, digging in his pocket for his wallet. "Her too."

The punky woman laughed, and called out a number at him. He pulled out some crumpled bills and tossed them down on the counter. She flashed him a grin and an overly friendly wink.

"You two come back anytime you want."

He stared incredulously at the young bartender, but nodded. She pulled out a pen, "here," and scribbled on a scrap of paper. "Piccolo, right? Name's Beth." He took the paper from her, eyes narrowed imperceptibly in well masked confusion.

"Thanks..."

Slipping the paper into his pocket, Piccolo gestured to Chichi, who stomped over to him, dark eyes flicking from side to side. He suppressed a shudder at the murderous look on her face. "Chichi -"

She held a hand up for silence, and he snapped his jaw shut. Chichi stormed out of the bar, slamming the door behind her. Piccolo cast one last glance in the burly man's direction; he was sitting up, slightly delirious, beard matted with blood. He spat out a tooth. The man's buddies were staring at Piccolo with an uncomfortable mix of terror and shock on their pink faces.

"Alright ya slobs! Buy the man a whiskey and get back to drinking!" Beth hollered from the bar, displaying a bottle of Jack. She winked again at Piccolo as he left, a slight blush discoloring his complexion.

Exiting the bar, he looked around for Chichi. She was standing by the street sign, leaning against the pole. A street light caught her in its yellowy glow, illuminating the arms crossed under her breasts, the clenched shut jaw, trembling slightly. Her eyes were open, staring at nothing. He sighed, blowing out a puff of air and jamming his hands into his pockets.

"Are you alright?" Piccolo asked quietly as he approached her, shadow morphing in shape and size as he ducked in and out of street lamps. He knew the answer before she replied.

"I'm insane."

"Insanity isn't an emotion," he stood in front of her, blocking the light and casting her face in shadow. "It's a state of being."

She looked like she was going to cry, face downcast, shoulders rolling forward.

He hated it when people cried. What was he supposed to _do_?

" _Just take me home,_ " she whispered, avoiding his gaze. Piccolo knew that social protocol demanded that he do something. He simply had no idea what that 'something' might be, nor what was appropriate in this situation. He tossed the car capsule down in the street. When the smoke cleared, he opened the passenger side door for her. She climbed in without a word.

It was not until after they had cleared the city limits that she spoke.

"You think I'm crazy."

"No news there."

"Don't you _dare_ tell me I overreacted." Chichi's fists closed around the fabric of her skirt, crinkling the beige material. She glared at her knees, trying to keep angry tears at bay.

"I won't."

She looked up sharply, surprise etched on her face.

He was staring straight ahead, to the road.

"You...won't?" But he had every right to say so, she had overreacted. Blown her top. Lost control. "But -"

"Don't." She closed her mouth. "I am _not_ going to tell you that you overreacted. I almost blew the place up with a ki influx. If I had your son's temper, I'd have been the only one left alive on the block."

"If you had _my_ temper, the whole city would be nothing more than an outdated dot on a map." She failed miserably in keeping the emotion out of her voice. " _Piccolo_?"

"Yeah?"

Chichi bit her lip, turning her head to look out at the dark countryside flashing by. She caught sight of her reflection in the window; dark hair in a messy ponytail, shadowy face tired and dejected.

"Why didn't he come back?"

He did not answer for a long time.

"I don't know."

"Why did that oaf take the credit? Why did you all let him?"

"Gohan." Piccolo replied, voice barely above a whisper. "Kid didn't need the fame, the attention. He needed to heal, which is what he has been doing." She looked away from the window and back at Piccolo. "You should do the same."

 


	8. Sweet Charade ("Hate this Place" – Goo Goo Dolls)

Chichi opened the door quietly, finding the lights on in the hall. From the other room, the flickering of a television, volume low, caught her attention. She frowned, but moved aside to let Piccolo in as well. Gohan should have been in bed at least an hour ago. She supposed that the boy could have had trouble with Goten. It also occurred to her that he may have been pushing the limits seeing as he had been left alone.

"He's asleep," Piccolo said softly, closing the door behind him. It clicked shut. The noise was small enough; the boys most likely wouldn't have heard it. "Over there." Chichi made her way over to the living room, following Piccolo's nod. The sight that met her eyes drew a gasp to her lips, and she covered to her mouth to stifle the sound. "What -?" Piccolo's voice trailed off as he came up behind her. "Oh."

Gohan was curled around his baby brother, arms protecting him from the edge of the couch. A forgotten bottle, half full, was wedged between Goten and Gohan. The baby was snuggled up to the older boy, tiny fingers grasping at Gohan's shirt. Both were fast asleep.

Piccolo and Chichi said nothing for a long, beautiful moment, simply gazing down at the two brothers. Piccolo glanced at Chichi, noting the shimmer of unshed tears swimming in her dark eyes. He noted again how much they looked like Gohan's. Piccolo's antennae twitched, and he turned his gaze back on the slumbering boys.

"We should put them in their proper beds," she whispered, and he knew that she was not looking at him. He was not looking at her. He was looking at Gohan, and knew she was doing the same. His little Gohan... He had no desire to move the boy, but Goten would wake soon enough anyway and spoil the moment, either hungry or in need of a diaper change.

"I'll take Gohan," Piccolo murmured, moving silently around the couch. He knelt in front of the two boys.

"Wait," he paused, turning his gaze onto Chichi, "I want a picture, just wait a minute." He nodded, and she shuffled off into another part of the house, tiptoeing back moments later with a camera. He shifted away from the couch, rocking back on his heels. Chichi came and stood next to him, stooping to take the picture. Piccolo watched her with bemusement, but said nothing. No photograph could capture the scene before them accurately, but it was worth a shot, he supposed. "Okay," Chichi said quietly, setting the camera down on the coffee table as if it were made of glass. "I don't want to wake them..." Piccolo did not fancy the idea of waking Goten either, remembering the volume of the infant's earlier wails. _Not in the slightest_. He watched as Chichi eased the bottle out from its sandwiched position between the boys, ready to help if needed. He opened his mouth, but said nothing, and closed it. She was having trouble with Gohan. Piccolo rolled forward, touching one knee to the floor and reached out to help her detangle the baby from Gohan's secure hold. Even in his base form, the half Saiyan had a mighty grip. It was like wrestling with steel, only harder. The moment Goten's warmth was removed, Gohan's face scrunched, and he stirred. Before he woke completely, Piccolo slipped his arms under the boy and scooped him to his chest, cradling him tenderly. Piccolo caught Chichi looking at him with a smile on her face. He was tempted to glare at her, but knew it was pointless. It had been almost three and a half years since she had feared him. Instead, he ignored her existence and turned his attention to the child in his arms. He adjusted his hold on the boy, nodded to Chichi, and whisked the child off to his bedroom, covering the ground easily with his long strides. Chichi was behind him, moving slowly as she hummed to Goten. It was not an unpleasant sound, he decided, much better than that awful whistling of which Gohan was so fond. Piccolo glanced over his shoulder at her, pausing at the door to Gohan's bedroom. He doubted that she noticed; smiling down at the baby, swaying slightly from side to side. Snatches of words drifted out of the hummed melody, but he ducked inside of Gohan's room before she noticed. She passed by, oblivious.

Piccolo sat down on Gohan's bed, sticking close to the edge. He pulled the covers back and settled his Kid down amongst the pillows. The boy made a noise of protest before snuggling into his sheets. He was less than half awake.

"Picc'lo?" Gohan mumbled, "that you?"

Piccolo nodded, reaching out a hand and ruffling the Kid's hair.

"Yeah, Kid," Piccolo said softly, "goodnight." He tucked a blanket around the boy's shoulders.

"See you in the morning?"

"Sure, Kid." When he was sure the boy was asleep once again, Piccolo stood, even as a creak in the floor alerted him to Chichi's presence. He turned, catching sight of her silhouette against the light from the hall.

"You're so good with him."

He snorted at her words, nonsense that they were, and headed towards the door, stooping just enough to avoid clonking his head against the frame. "I mean it," she said quietly. "You're not the ass you like to pretend to be. At least not all the time." Chichi offered him a small smile, walking with him back to the kitchen. He glanced down at her, unsure of how to continue the conversation, nor even if he wanted to add to it.

"Well," he started, but paused, tugging on the cuffs of his sleeves. "I should probably go."

"Hold on," she grabbed his hand, and he looked down at her again.

"Why?"

"Well," Chichi flushed, feeling self-conscious as the events from "The Rice Cooker" danced in front of her eyes like some half-forgotten dream, "You've got blood, all over your face." He grunted, it was a question, she decided, analyzing his expression for a moment. "Just let me clean it up for you."

"You don't need to do that," Chichi frowned, putting her hands on her hips.

"Well, I want to, so sit your green ass down," she pointed imperiously at her kitchen table. Piccolo, much to her chagrin, shook his head and walked toward the door.

" ** _Daimao_ _Piccolo Junior_** _._ "

It was a snarled hiss.

He froze, not five steps from her. "Sit. Down. _Now_." He obeyed, and her lips curled up at the corners, "was that really so hard?" Piccolo grunted again; he looked about as thrilled as a wet kitten. Chichi caught his blank stare, cocking an eyebrow to ensure he did not flee whilst she gathered medical supplies. He looked away first. Satisfied, the woman bustled about her kitchen, soaking a clean washcloth in cold water and moving back to her patient. Sitting, he was a little shorter than her. Barely. Chichi pressed the washcloth to his slightly swollen face. He remained still. A living statue.

"I really am sorry," she said, keeping her voice in a clipped, matter of fact tone. "But you should have known better than to get between me and some bastard who insults my baby." Under the washcloth, she felt his lips tug upwards in a smirk.

"I've had worse. And you're not supposed to be apologizing."

Chichi paused, pulling the cloth away from his face, meeting his dark eyes.

"I – I," she had no idea what to say in response to that, so she changed tactics, gazing shifting from his intense stare to his chest. "This shirt is ruined."

"Doesn't matter."

"Do you want me to wash it?"

"I want you to go sleep."

She swatted him lightly on the shoulder, walking away from him to toss the bloodied washcloth in the sink. When she turned around again, he was gone, the door clicking shut right behind him. Chichi bit her lip, leaning against the countertop and combing a hand through her hair, ebony locks falling free of the ribbon. She thought back to their conversation in the car, wondering how she was supposed to follow his advice...

~~~*~~~

" _What?!"_ Gohan cried, making a snatch at the piece of paper. "You got a girl's _number_? Have you called her yet? Is she cute?" Piccolo made no attempt to stop the boy from getting a hold on the scrap of paper, although Gohan still had to reach for it across the warrior's chest. " ** _Piccolo_**!"

"No, I have not called her yet," he muttered, tugging at the collar of the ruined button down still clinging to his person. "I didn't even look at the paper until just now."

"Come on, Piccolo!" Gohan rolled his eyes, flopping down on the grass beside the Namek. They were on the bank of Piccolo's waterfall, the tumultuous cascade crashing down into the waiting pool with a dull roar that faded into the background of their senses. "If a girl gives you her number you call her!"

"How am I _supposed_ to know _that_?" Piccolo snapped, adjusting his seat and glaring at his companion. "I have no knowledge of these customs beyond what _you_ have told me!"

Gohan held the paper scrap up over his head to admire it once again. The sunlight streaming in from behind the paper illuminated the numbers and the name "Beth"

"Is she cute?" he asked again. Piccolo growled loudly. "I'm just _asking_!"

"I don't know!"

"How do you _not_ know?!" Gohan exclaimed, exasperated. _Honestly_!

"What constitutes as 'cute?'" Gohan made a small noise, sitting up and supporting himself on his hands. He looked quizzically at Piccolo.

"That depends on the person. What do you think is cute?"

Piccolo glared at him, a violet flush shading his cheeks. He shrugged. "Well," Gohan crawled a little closer to his friend and handed him the phone number. "Perfect world, you can be with anyone you want. Describe them?" It was worth a shot.

"Myself."

"Big, mean, and green? Well that might be tough since there aren't any female Namekians."

Piccolo took a swipe at him, and Gohan decided not to dodge.

"Ow." The blow collided with his head, but Piccolo did not follow through.

"That did _not_ hurt."

"It might have." He reached up and grabbed the four-fingered hand resting atop his raven haired head.

"But it didn't."

Gohan smiled ruefully at the Namek. Piccolo stared at him, and slowly curled his fingers in the boy's hair, rocking his head back and forth slowly.

"Are you going to call her?"

Piccolo pushed him backwards. Caught off guard, Gohan failed to stop his motion, and toppled over, yelping as he landed on his back. "That wasn't fair!" He pushed himself up onto his elbows. The preteen narrowed his eyes marginally and tried to appear threatening. The mask did not suit him; it collapsed the moment Piccolo's lips twitched. His stoic friend made a sound that might have been a chuckle, cocking his eyebrows. Gohan busted out laughing, shaking his head at the man. "You're too much, you know?"

"No."

The half Saiyan stood, brushing grass from his elbows; it left little criss-crossing indents in his flesh. He picked at a few stubborn blades before turning his attention back to the Namek.

"If you don't call her, I will."

"She is twice your age."

"So?" Gohan grinned cheekily, "I've hit a growth spurt! Mom said I've grown two inches in the last week and half alone."

"I don't see your point," Piccolo deadpanned, standing up as well. He glanced absentmindedly at the note in his hand. "You're still a little shrimp."

"I am not," Gohan argued, flexing his biceps in what Piccolo assumed was supposed to be a manly fashion. He shook his head. "Really? Nothing?" Gohan smirked devilishly and flared his ki. Piccolo had to brace himself against the onslaught to avoid being blown backwards. "How about now?" Piccolo rolled his eyes; Gohan had powered up to a full blown Super Saiyan. He struck a pose.

"Now you just look ridiculous."

"I do _not_." Gohan pouted, letting the transformation recede. The golden aura died down. "I think it's cool."

Piccolo could not help the expression that appeared on his face.

"It wasn't. Don't do that ever again."

"Never ever?" Gohan actually sounded – and looked, he realized, glancing down at the boy's open face – incredibly disappointed.

"Only if we're going to die, and you need to do something stupid to throw our opponent off." Piccolo picked at a pit of dried blood on the ruined button down. He really ought to change.

"That's annoyingly specific."

~~~*~~~

"What do you mean Piccolo got to pick his date?" Chichi put her seldom-free hand on her hip, yelling indignantly into the phone.

" _Well, apparently he's a lady killer and got the bartender's number,"_ Bulma replied, and Chichi had the distinct impression that the older woman was laughing at her. _"Gohan told me that he set them up for next Sunday, like an early dinner thing. Are you available around four?"_

"I don't know, let me check me calendar." Chichi didn't even bother to keep the sarcasm from her voice. "Hm, looks like I have an appointment with my baby's diaper right about then. After that, feeding time, a bath, another diaper – if he doesn't poop in the tub –"

" _Okay okay eew!"_

"You have a kid in diapers!"

" _Trunks conducts himself in a manner suiting his stature as a princeling."_

"He does not!"

" _Chichi, are we really arguing about this? Do you want me to set you up with the sexy intern or not?"_

"Ah," Chichi pursed her lips, "how sexy are we talking? Because if that stringy professor is any indication –"

" _He was a safe guy to get your feet wet!"_ Bulma snapped.

"Because I go for 'safe.'"

" _Well this guy isn't. If I weren't engaged to Vegeta…"_ The heiress's voice became laced with a lustful overtone. _"Well, I'd pin him to a wall and tear his clothes off with my teeth. Then I'd smother his naked body in strawberry ice cream and –"_ Chichi winced as a loud crash reverberated across the phone connection. Dimly, she could hear Vegeta screaming obscenities. Loud and clear, Bulma was laughing.

"Sunday around four sounds fine!" She yelled, slamming the phone down. She had an uncomfortable feeling that Bulma had purposely said those things to get Vegeta in a… _passionate_ …mood.

And suddenly the words "he's a lady killer" popped into the forefront of her mind.


	9. Legend on the Late Night Scene

"Nope." Gohan rolled over on the picnic blanket, staring up at his Namekian companion. "Wrong color."

He closed his eyes against the flash of light, opened them and said: "Who taught you how to dress? Again."

"You are being incredibly unhelpful," Piccolo snarled, zapping yet another outfit on his body. Gohan raised an eyebrow, propping himself up on his elbows in the grass. Goten burbled from his spot on the blanket, not far from his brother. He pointed happily at Piccolo and made a wet noise not unlike a giggle.

"See, even Goten knows you look ridiculous. Red is _so_ not your color."

"I know that," Piccolo's voice escaped his throat as a guttural growl. "Purple is 'my color' and you have informed me _that I am not allowed to wear it_." Gohan flipped a page in the magazine, scanning the shiny surface for something fitting.

"Well, I'm not the one who landed a date with someone so far out of his league." He frowned, and turned the page. The sun glittering off the shiny surface of the magazine glared in his eyes.

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?" Piccolo snapped, rounding on his young companion. "This whole thing was _your_ idea. And," he crossed his arms, glaring imperiously down at the boy, "you're the one that called this girl."

"Well," the boy seemed stumped, "I wasn't expecting to hear _that_ on the other line. With a voice like hers..."

"What?"

"It's just that..." Gohan pursed his lips, "she sounds super hot. And I was thinking that maybe you found a cute girl, like paying her way through college on tips from the bar, and suddenly caught up in your charismatic...well, your... Um..."

Piccolo drummed his fingers on his bicep, skin on his forehead crinkling as he raised his brows.

"My _what_ , exactly?"

Gohan waved him off, harrumphing agitatedly and pulling up grass.

"I'm _thinking_."

"Ouch," Piccolo drawled sarcastically. He turned his head skyward, squinting at the sun and shading his eyes against its damaging rays. "For what time did you make the reservation?"

"Ah," Piccolo glanced at his young friend. "4:30."

"That's early."

"Yeah," Gohan agreed, and flipped to yet another new page in the magazine. "Here, try this," he held up a picture of a tall, somewhat muscled man in a grey v-neck and dark jeans.

Piccolo rolled his eyes, but complied, zapping the suggested articles onto his person, and tried to hide his annoyance as Gohan eyed him critically.

"That'll do!" the boy said cheerfully, sitting up and pulling the baby into his lap. He stood. "Now hold him? I need to check on Mom."

"Take him with -" But Gohan was already in the house, and Goten clinging to him like a limpet. " _You_." Piccolo inclined his head down to the baby, who cooed happily up at him. His eyes softened, and he adjusted his hold on the just-barely four-month old. "Yeah, yeah, not a word of this, got it?"

Goten, who could not understand the words, yawned, opening his toothless mouth wide, dark eyes pinching shut as the helium pitched noise squeaked out of him.

It was short enough to not bother his ears. Piccolo tentatively offered the child his index finger, and Goten gummed it heartily, suckling and, in general, getting saliva all over his hand.

Goten, chubby little hands holding tightly to Piccolo's knuckles, stared up at the green man without the slightest inclination of fear. It felt good.

Slimy, and somewhat stinky, but good.

The warrior shook his head, and adjusted his hold on the tiny, fragile, infant, before walking back to the little cottage.

Gohan had set up the baby's playpen by the couch in the living room, filling it with toys and the like. Piccolo was not entirely sure what purpose the brightly-colored items served, other than to entertain the wide-eyed baby. He set Goten down gently so he was resting against a sturdy pillow for that exact purpose. The infant's balance and strength were improving daily, but he occasionally toppled over. Goten grabbed onto his retreating hand, gurgling. "Let _go_ ," Piccolo's free hand gently worked to pry the baby's fingers off of his thumb, to no avail, of course. The Namekian rolled his eyes in exasperation and reached for one of the child's many toys. He shook the object in front of the baby enticingly, and a moment later he let go, grabbing on to the rattle and banging it gleefully against the floor.

The warrior stood up quickly and wiped his hands on a towel draped over the playpen wall. Piccolo's ears twitched, hearing Gohan's bare feet slapping down the stairs, and the click-click-click of Chichi's heels behind him. He picked at the hem of his gray v-neck self-consciously, checking the belt that held the almost-black jeans at his waist. He wished he had a mirror, just to reassure himself that he did not look ridiculous.

The problem, he noted, was that he had no idea what looked good and what did not. He knew that Chichi would let him know if he looked...bad... But he was acutely aware that he did not want her to think he appeared silly or stupid or even that unfathomable human notion of being "unfashionable."

It was a confusing feeling.

He did not think he should have such feelings. _Especially_ in regards to Chichi. _Chichi._ She was someone he tolerated, he reminded himself, even as she came around the corner behind Gohan.

She wore kitten heeled shoes of a pinkish color, flesh-toned tights, a dark skirt, and a ruffled blouse that was the same hue as her shoes. With her cheekbones - still too prominent in his quiet opinion - a subtle tint of pink, eyes shadowed lightly, and full lips painted a deep, reddish color, Chichi looked healthy. Piccolo blinked, and reached for his capsule packet. Good. It was in his back pocket, exactly where it was needed. He didn't want to look at her hair, which did seem rather shiny this particular day.

Chichi smiled at him.

He nodded, catching the gesture out of his peripheral vision. He was still fiddling with his clothes, feeling decidedly naked, despite being no less covered than usual.

"You look nice," she said, and he noticed Gohan's eyes flash with an emotion he did not catch. He brushed it off, not picking up on any stray thoughts from his Kid's head. In response to her comment, he dipped his chin in her direction. "Maybe add a leather jacket?"

"What?" The Namek looked up, catching her eye for the first time.

She glanced Heavenward, and shook her head, dark locks bouncing on her shoulders with the movement.

"A _jacket_ , Dumbass."

Gohan tittered, lifting Goten out of the playpen and sitting down on the couch. "Don't even think about using that," Chichi snapped, not even facing her son. The boy quickly stifled his giggles. Piccolo rolled his eyes, amused by how easily the boy could be cowed by the little woman. She waved her hand dismissively, gesturing to him again. "Seriously, a brown leather jacket. Can you do leather?"

"I…I can try," Piccolo muttered, glancing at Gohan, who looked disturbingly pleased with the situation. If he had not had a gurgling baby on his lap, the warrior may have blasted him simply to wipe the stupid expression from his face.

It had taken several attempts to satisfy Chichi's mental image of what he should be wearing, but at long last, they were driving. Piccolo had the radio turned down low. He was unsure if Chichi would be interested in conversation. The woman was fiddling with her hair. How pointless. He felt her eyes flickering onto him occasionally.

"Can't be worse than the first time," Piccolo said lightly.

Chichi laughed quietly, and reached for the volume.

"You're the one who should be nervous," she said pointedly, "a date with the hottie bartender."

His face heated considerably, cheeks purpling slightly.

He supposed that she did indeed have a point.

Piccolo wished desperately that Gohan would just allow them to fly. Of course, Chichi was part of the problem there. She claimed that flying gave her a headache and upset her stomach on top of reversing any attempt she made with her hair. Not for the first time, he was thankful he was not compromised by such useless attributes. Hair was only good for ruffling. And Chichi would rip his hand off if he tried. Not that he would attempt such a thing. With her.

"Um, Piccolo? Aren't we meeting them at the other end of the city?"

"Hm?" He'd made a left when he should have gone right. "Damn, yeah."

"If you go down that one-way street, you'll be able to go back to the main road," Chichi offered, pointing at the street in question. He noted with some interest that she had not screamed at him. Interesting. He followed her directions, and soon enough had the car headed in the right direction. Chichi started talking about something trivial, but he mostly tuned her out, looking for the restaurant where Gohan had made a reservation.

Piccolo was privately relieved that Gohan had enough sense to have chosen a middle-of-the-road restaurant. He had money, picking up odd jobs for Bulma paid surprisingly well, and he had managed to find some stashes of valuables belonging to his kin. He had no use for most of it, and even with Gohan's lessons, little knowledge of the workings of money. He had enough, he knew that, but still... There was no need to spend whatever he had frivolously. Especially since he was probably going to order a salad and lemonade. Maybe a beer if everyone else ordered one.

Piccolo parked his SUV on the curb outside of the restaurant, and killed the engine.

There was something he needed to ask Chichi before they went in there. He swallowed, more than a little of his pride sliding down his throat as well, and turned to her, even as she unbuckled her seat belt.

"How do you talk to women?"

When asked later, Chichi would be unable to recall how the food tasted. She had been far too interested in the man across the table from her.

Tall - although nowhere near as tall Piccolo - with mocha eyes and caramel hair, a chiseled face, and perfectly straight nose, this "intern" as Bulma had referred to him, was in all actuality a highly paid technician. As it turned out, Bulma referred to any and all new workers as interns, Udon explained with a laugh.

"Until you've worked there for a year she considers us all her slaves."

"I can see that," Chichi replied with a chuckle. From the man's left, Piccolo snorted. Udon glanced at the Namek with a hint of nervousness but seemed to shake it off. Her mostly silent companion was all-together too big for the booth, and looked ready to bolt. She barely restrained herself from rolling her eyes and returned her attention to Udon.

"How do you know my boss, if I may ask?" he queried casually, "I've never seen you around Capsule Corp."

Chichi took a sip of water before answering.

"My late husband was a childhood friend of Bulma," she twirled a finger around the rim of the glass, eyes falling on the naked finger where her ring used to rest. It was locked up, safe and sound at home. "We got to know each other while I was planning my wedding." Her stomach clenched. Perfect. Just the turn-off she needed. He was dangerously attractive.

Udon hummed appreciatively, and Chichi glanced at the woman sitting next to her, hoping for a distraction of some sort.

Beth, completely unperturbed by Piccolo's lack of conversation, was listening to Chichi's story. She flicked the blonde fringe from her eyes and flashed Piccolo a brilliant grin. Much to her satisfaction, the bridge of her green date's nose turned purple. The young woman took a sip of her drink and grimaced.

"Well _that_ was mixed improperly," she chuckled, and set the glass down.

"What-?" Chichi blinked, almost dropping her lemonade, and Beth smiled, noting the lack of comprehension on the other woman's face.

"You're fine, Hon," the blonde beamed at her darker counterpart. "I just need to learn to lower my expectations when drinking anything mixed by anyone other than me." She winked.

"Or just get a beer," Udon suggested. Beth shrugged, and slid her denim jacket off of her shoulders. Her tank top showed off a modest number of intricate, finely detailed tattoos. She returned her attention to her silent date.

"Do I need to get you a fruity little drink before you talk to me?"

Piccolo nearly face planted into the table, she actually watched his muscles leap beneath the skin. Pleased, she continued, leaning back in the seat and winking suggestively.

"He's quiet," Chichi weakly attempted to save him, hiding amusement with painful obviousness, but Beth was having a little too much fun with the hapless Namekian. Just a wee-bit. Piccolo's entire face flushed a furious fuchsia, and he gaped openly at her, fangs clearly visible behind his lips.

"Naw, I think he needs a..." she looked over the drink menu, blue eyes scanning for something she deemed suitable."An extra-sweet appletini special to loosen those green lips a little."

"I am capable of speech without the influence of alcohol," Piccolo's face was still an enticing shade of purple. Beth grinned and offered him her cocktail. He shook his head.

"Well, prove it, Big Boy."

Piccolo's mouth opened, closed, opened again, and hung slack for an embarrassing amount of time, before he pursed his lips and crossed his arms.

Beth beamed and sipped her drink.

Piccolo, still blushing, picked up the food menu and hid behind it.

"Excuse me," Chichi said softly, tapping her on the shoulder. Beth scooted out of the booth and let Chichi by. The dark haired woman looped her arm through Piccolo's and dragged him bodily from the booth. "We'll be _right back_ ," the little dark haired woman pulled the quietly protesting Piccolo out to the door, but not before Beth noted the odd expression on her face.

Piccolo refused to look at her, staring directly over her head towards the street. Chichi tapped her foot on the pavement outside of the restaurant.

"Well?"

"Well _what_?" Piccolo snapped, looked irritably down at her. She rolled her eyes, fingers of her left hand drumming on her right bicep.

"Well, you asked me how to talk to women. And I told you to be polite, chivalrous, and to _actually talk_."

"There is nothing to talk about," he muttered, crossing his arms and huffing. "Speech is for sharing information, not spewing meaningless drivel."

"Oh for the love of -" Chichi waved a hand around, cocking the opposite hip. "You are impossible. I know you don't want to be here, but honestly! Why even bother asking for help when you do not intend to listen? You're a mule, an absolute _mule_ , do you realize that?"

Piccolo's eye twitched, Chichi noted the gesture but ignored it. If he wanted to defend himself, he would have to speak up. "Why don't you start with 'hi, I'm Piccolo. I'm green, belligerent and have the emotional range of a _teaspoon_."

She found herself closer to him than she had intended, finger poking into his chest. He caught her by the wrist, long fingers encircling her arm. His grip was neither tight nor threatening, just strong. She raised an eyebrow.

"I would advise you to remember that behind your son and Vegeta, I am the most powerful being on this planet. Do not test me." His voice held no malice. Not even a warning. It was a statement of fact.

But it still pissed her off.

Piccolo hissed in pained surprise as Chichi twisted out of his grip.

"And I'd advise you, Piccolo, to remember that I could have _Goku_ quivering in fear in under point-two seconds. Just by pulling out a _goddamn_ _frying pan_." She smirked at him, "and last time I checked, it worked on you _and_ Gohan." He stared down at her, eyes wide. On an impulse, she winked at him. "Now how about you buck up, grow a pair, and…" Chichi paused.

"And?"

"Talk."

"About what?"

She threw her hands up on the air, incredulous.

"You're a highly intelligent fighter, an alien, a god, the Demon King, and have saved the world _multiple_ _times_. I'm sure you can think of _something_."


	10. Shut Your Mouth, You're Everything to Me

There was something undeniably cute about a pissed-off Piccolo, Chichi decided, allowing her eyes to shift over to him. Especially with that crinkled little nose of his… He was not, she noted, angry so much as he was out of his comfort zone and utterly befuddled. He kept casting her irritated glances. But, he had followed her advice, and even started the current conversation between himself and Beth. She smiled smugly and took a sip of her lemonade.

"…So, you've saved the world… _how_ many times?" Beth twirled a finger around the mouth of her newly ordered-beer bottle. She seemed genuinely interested in what he was saying. It made Piccolo's ears twitch; he pressed his own beer to his lips in an attempt to hide the flush creeping up his neck onto his cheeks. "Well, you going to tell me or not?"

"Uh," Piccolo set the beer down carefully, buying for time as he trudged through the mire of his own uncertainties, "I…only ever _helped_." He rolled the bottle between his fingers.

Beth nudged Chichi in the ribs.

"Always liked a modest guy, right?" Piccolo wondered how much more his face could possibly heat up before he spontaneously combusted.

Chichi rolled her eyes, closed them, and set her glass down.

"Give him a minute, he'll start boasting."

"I most certainly will not."

Chichi stuck her tongue out him, a gesture she had made a thousand times before. So why was it bothering him now? His ears flicked in agitation as he bit down on his tongue to stop a rude comment from spilling off of his lips. Beth let out a nervous laugh.

"How, er, how long have you two known each other?" Udon sniffed. Piccolo glanced at the human, eyeing him with barely masked distaste. The man's power level was lower than Chichi's, and yet she had been staring at him for the past hour or so with something akin to adoration plastered in the most unattractive manner on her face. It was irritating. What on earth did she find pleasing about Udon? He frowned more forcefully.

"A while," Piccolo grumbled in response, examining Udon carefully out of the corner of his eye. Maybe was it the hair? The Namekian stared at his distorted reflection in his beer bottle.

"As in been friendly or how long ago did we meet?"

Beth shifted across the table from him. His eyes flicked up to meet hers for a brief moment before returning to the bottle in his hands.

" _Frrriieendly_ ," the word rolled off of Udon's tongue, elongated and slower than Piccolo deemed was really necessary or practical.

"Um, about… I," Chichi's voice faltered. He looked up, raising an eyebrow. Their eyes met. Her cheeks turned pink. "Three…four years?"

"Something like that," Piccolo muttered, lifting his beer to his lips again. "It's not important."

"Hm…" Udon nodded slowly, face contemplative. No sooner had he opened his mouth to continue then a waiter appeared carrying a tray of entrees, promptly forestalling any and all conversation at the table. Piccolo methodically stirred his soup, waiting for everyone else to be served.

"Can I get y'all anything else, or should I just bring the bill?"

"Ah," Chichi glanced around the table, quickly taking in everyone's appearance. Udon was already pulling his wallet out of the pocket of his sport coat. She raised an eyebrow at Piccolo, who was glaring daggers at the other man, and furiously digging in his jeans. Her face screwed up in confusion, _what on earth had gotten into him_? In unison, two wallets hit the table with surprisingly loud thuds.

" **Bill**!" the word was growled through two sets of heavily gritted teeth. Neither Piccolo nor Udon was looking at the waiter, both had their eyes trained on the other, and their eyes were out for blood.

" _Piccolo_ ," Chichi hissed, glancing at the bemused waiter at the end of the table. " _What. Are. You. Doing_?" His only response was to pull his lips up over his fangs, revealing them in their full, feral glory.

That impudent, uncivilized, no-good, asshole of a Namek! " ** _Don't you dare ign-"_**

"Woah, boys," Beth leaned on the table, placing a hand between the two wallets. She wore a smile. "We're in public; this is no place to be measuring _dicks_." Udon and Piccolo's faces paled considerably, and their eye contact wavered, flicking to the blonde for a brief moment before settling on some part of the booth. "If you want to do that, the men's room is _right_ around the corner." She gestured over her shoulder. Chichi gawked at the fair-haired bartender, impressed by her cool attitude and witty remarks. Of course, she supposed, feeling the tension in the cramped booth dissipate ever so slightly, Beth likely dealt with testosterone-laden idiots on a nightly basis. She had plenty of practice. "Well, if we're all done with this macho-madness, I suggest we pay the bill." She smiled and slid her hand away from the two males. "Four way split?"

"Why not," Piccolo's ears flushed violet, and he pulled his wallet back to himself, opening it and pulling out a sufficient wad of zenni. "Sounds...sounds fine to me." His cherry-black irises flicked to met Chichi's, she felt her cheeks heating up the longer he held her gaze. She broke the eye contact and dug into her purse, pulling out a pink billfold and pulling out her portion, "I've got the tip," the Namekian muttered, adding cash to the pile.

"So sweet," Beth said dryly, tossing bills down onto the table.

" _Tch_ ," Udon muttered, and threw his credit card to the waiter. "Put whatever's left on that."

The waiter caught it deftly and gathered up the cash before nodding and scurrying away from the combative table.

"Well," Piccolo stared at the bartender's outstretched hand for a long moment before slowly extending his own and taking it. "I had a nice time tonight."

"Um," he nodded, "sure."

Beth grinned and shook his hand with surprising vigor.

"What are you up to Tuesday afternoon, like...one?" he stared at her, completely confused by her question. "Yeah I know, I have weird hours," she laughed and shrugged her denim jacket on over the tank top. "but you don't strike me as the type of guy who has a day job."

"Oh, of course," he replied, slightly flustered by the look she was giving him. "I mean, I meditate, but... Why?"

" _Uhhhh_ , because the two of us can catch a movie? And if you hate it, you can take a nap! Or meditate, or whatever you do. Win-win situation." Beth winked and nudged him.

Piccolo blushed.

"Sounds...sounds good." His gaze slid over to Chichi and Udon. "Just...you and I?"

She nodded, blonde bangs bouncing on her forehead. "Okay."

"You'll pick me up." Beth looked down at her purse, rummaging through it. He wondered if she was going to dismiss him or if he could just high tail it out of the city. "Ah, there it is!" She pulled out a marker and grabbed his hand. "Do you mind?" Unsure of what she was going to do, he shrugged. Beth flashed her pearly white teeth at him again and began to scribble on his forearm. It tickled, but he held perfectly still while she wrote all over the pink muscular tissue. "A-at one. Then we'll catch the one-thirty or two o'clock show."

"Right."

"You're cute," she winked, capped the marker, and dropped in unceremoniously into her purse. "Okay, see you Tuesday."

"Right. Well, goodnight, then," the Namek offered her a very small, fleeting smile before she turned away with a wave.

"Is this weird?"

"What?"

"Is this weird? You and I, going out together, but seeing different people while on these dates?" Chichi repeated, turning the volume on the radio down. She leaned back into the car seat, inclining her head in Piccolo's direction. Her gaze lingered on his face, taking in the chiseled bone structure, appreciating his high cheek bones and sharp nose. Even the prominent brows were attractive. Chichi shook her head, chasing the inappropriate adjective away. After all, Piccolo was… Well he was Piccolo. And he had absolutely no interest in her whatsoever.

"Why would it be weird? I'm your most convenient method of transportation."His voice was flat.

"I don't know!" Chichi snapped, "Do _you_ think it's weird?"

"I think we have overused the word 'weird,' to the point where it just sounds silly."Piccolo replied sarcastically. Chichi did not even bother to suppress the baleful expression she knew must have been manifesting itself in her eyes. "I think it's odd that I allowed myself to be forced into social situations. And, even more strangely, I find myself…not hating it."Here, he caught her in a sidelong glance, taking his eyes off the road for a mere millisecond. "At least not all of it."

Chichi thought about what he meant, mulling it over silently. Her hand reached back to the radio, twisting the volume-knob clockwise. Piccolo's car had surprisingly good speakers. Minding his sensitive hearing, she left the sound relatively low, comfortable. Like the background music of a fancy lounge. Subconsciously, Chichi hummed along to the song, vaguely recalling the tune, but not the words. She frowned. Gohan liked this song.

"Is this Depeche Mode?"


	11. Use My Head Alongside My Heart

 

Light assaulted his eyes as it flared to life in the dark room. Piccolo squinted against the sudden change in environment, and only moments later, wished he had thought to bring earplugs as a sound to rival a firing Kamehameha Wave roared over his eardrums. The namek's ears flicked as they adjusted to the increased volume, his brain manually tuning out excess stimulation with each passing second. Piccolo crossed his arms and wiggled in the too-small theatre seats, cursing himself silently. The girl next him made him incredibly uncomfortable, being altogether far too bold for her own good. But, he had to hand it to her, she had chosen an activity that was, in the least, _tolerable_.

 He had taken Gohan to the movies several times over the past four years, mainly to escape from the boy's parents - or rather, Goku's incessant chatter and Chichi's shrieked commands. Of course, Gohan had never chosen an action movie before. He preferred pleasant films, children's movies, opposed to anything involving explosions. 

Barely ten minutes in, Piccolo decided that this particular movie was slightly more appealing to his personal preferences than those that the Kid chose. There was, however, something bothering him. _A tickle in the back of his mind; what was it…? Ahhhh_... He had pinpointed the feeling. _Behind him, to the…left. Yeah, left_. Ever so casually, Piccolo turned his head, pretending to crack his neck, and, very quickly, extended his arm back into the row behind him, grabbing a hooded teenager by the shoulder. He dragged the lurcher bodily over the seats, depositing him into the adjoining chair. The teen yelped, causing several heads to turn in their direction. "What -?" Beth twisted in her seat, "what's...going on?" 

He ignored her, and yanked the hood off of the boy's head. The projector's beam illuminated spiked black hair and wide eyes.

 "Afternoon, Brat." 

"How did you know it was me?" Gohan whispered sheepishly, pulling his shoulder's up past his ears. "I was blocking all my thoughts and everything." 

"I always know where you are, Kid." 

"Shhh," a massive man with a backlit afro hissed from in front of Beth. 

"Yeah but," Gohan shifted closer to Piccolo, leaning on his shoulder and murmuring conspiratorially in his ear, "I was being really careful. And kept my ki low."

 "Doesn't matter," Piccolo smirked and tapped the Kid's forehead. "We're in each others' heads." 

"Who's this?" Beth whispered, leaning across Piccolo, unlike Gohan, she avoided touching him. "Friend of yours?"

 " _Shhhhh_!" Afro and its neighbor, a set of pigtails on a teen-sized head both turned around, fingers on their lips. Piccolo shot them a glare and nodded to Beth.

 "I believe you spoke on the phone." 

"Hi," Gohan waved, teeth glinting in the projector's light. "I'm Gohan."

 "Hi, Gohan," the blonde sounded utterly bemused. "Beth…" 

"Would you three _shut up_?" Pigtails snapped, twisting in her seat and gesturing rudely, "I'm _trying_ to watch a movie." 

"I'm sorry," Piccolo rolled his eyes as Gohan apologized. Kid was too meek, in his opinion. "We'll be quiet -"

 "I should hope so!" Afro said in a loud voice that rubbed Piccolo the wrong way. Something about it made his skin crawl. "I'm trying to have nice day with my daughter, and I'm just hearing you lot jabbering on about nothin'!"

 "I'm sor-" The namekian cut Gohan off with an angry growl, baring his fangs and hoping that his oversized canines picked up enough of the light to cause a pants-wetting. The large jawed man whipped around in his seat and promptly shushed his daughter's protest. 

Piccolo rolled his eyes and settled back in his chair. He would deal with Kid later.

Gohan winced multiple times during the movie, and sank into his chair. He felt his heart rate blitz on several occasions, and gripped the edge of the seat a little more tightly. It was certainly nothing he would have chosen to watch. 

 _The Villain cackled maniacally, taking aim at the Hero, and **God** did that laughter sound familiar…_  Gohan bit his lip. _Maybe following Piccolo hadn't been such a good id_ \- He jumped as something landed softly on his head, but the weight was easily identifiable. The boy's eyes left the screen and landed on his friend's face, taking in the subtle tilt of the head and an easily recognizable expression of concern. He offered his mentor a small smile. Piccolo's brow softened slightly, and his hand tangled itself in the boy's thick, untamable hair. 

"Completely unrealistic, right?" Piccolo murmured, leaning closer to the boy. Gohan felt the corners of his lips tug upwards as he caught on to Piccolo's game. He nodded. "Honestly," the Namekian was practically bent double as he whispered in Gohan's ear, "the amount of wasted movement is making my stomach churn." Gohan covered his mouth to stifle a giggle. 

"And their form is terrible," he replied in the quietest voice he could muster. "I knew better when I was _five_." 

" _Hmph_. Five and half, maybe." Gohan stuck his tongue out, but said nothing else, leaning against his friend's muscular shoulder instead.

As the credits rolled and the lights rose back up to daylight levels, Gohan's stomach rumbled loudly. 

"I hope you brought money to feed yourself," Piccolo growled, standing and stretching. He had no need of a verbal response as a general feeling of guilt leaked through their bond. "Unbelievable."

 "Sounds like you're hungry," Beth piped up from the other side of him. "I know a place that's not far from the theatre." She looked at her watch, blond brows knitting together as she examined it. "I have…two hours to kill before my shift starts." 

"You work at a bar, right?"

 "Yep," her tone was noticeably clipped, and he wondered if she was irritated by Kid's surprise appearance.

 Piccolo followed the young woman out of the row of theatre seats, checking occasionally to ensure that Gohan had not become caught in the sea of humans exiting the theatre. Several of the humans and other earthlings gave him a wide berth. He rolled his eyes, contemplating growling at a few of them, but decided against it. There was no need to cause a ruckus. No matter how amusing it would be. The namekian shifted ahead of Beth and pushed the glass doors leading to the outside open, holding them for his two companions.

 "Hey, Piccolo?" Gohan asked as Piccolo caught up to them, falling into step beside the half-Saiyan. 

"What, Kid?" He did not bother glancing in the boy's direction. Gohan's fingers curled around the fabric of the purple t-shirt. 

"You _will_ buy me lunch, right?" Oh boy, was he really starting that nonsense already? That _damned_ note was already in his voice; that _cursed_ lilt, bordering on a whimper. "Or dinner, or whatever this is? A snack. I'll be quiet and spar later - _Ow_!"

Beth whipped around in time to see Gohan grab the top of his head and stumble forward. Piccolo's fist was still half raised. 

"Did you just _hit_ him?" 

"Yeah." Piccolo cocked an eyebrow, emerald skin on his forehead wrinkling ever so slightly.

 "What the _hell_?" She put her hands on her hips, "you can't just -" the words never made it out as Gohan bounced up and kicked Piccolo in the ribs, sending the man back a few steps. Several people sharing the sidewalk scattered, others looked on with interest. Quite a few were staring at Gohan in shock. 

"Son of a _bitch_ ," Piccolo hissed, rubbing his chest and pointedly ignoring Beth and the impromptu spectators, instead snapping at the dark haired boy. "I did not hit you that hard." 

"Don't talk about Mom that way," Gohan responded in a manner that could only be described as cheeky, a smile was already returning to his face. Piccolo did not reply, merely rolling his eyes and crossing his massive arms across his chest.

Beth stared at the duo incredulously, mouth moving but no words escaping her lips until…

"You seriously just _beat_ on each other?"

Gohan flushed, bit his lip, shrugged and then opened his mouth, as if to explain, but she cut him off. "You know how _fucked up_ that is, right?" she snapped, waving one hand in the air. 

"It's not as bad as you'd think?" the boy tried, looking incredibly sheepish. He seemed to have noticed the other people, and raised his voice slightly. "We're sparring partners. Piccolo taught me how to fight _years_ ago." Gohan rubbed the back of his head and smiled disarmingly. "My entire family is made up of martial artists, even my mom." 

Her gaze flicked to Piccolo, whose face was, as per usual, almost entirely impassive, although she thought she noticed a slight discoloration of his cheeks that had not been there before. "Honest," Gohan piped up again. He looked around at the crowd of curious onlookers. 

Beth's irate hand slowly lowered to her head, fingers automatically combing through the cropped blonde locks. She blew out a puff of air and stared at the two of them. 

"Let's just go," the Namek muttered, nudging Gohan ahead of him. 

"We're still going to eat, right?" 

"If you insist."

Beth was quiet throughout the majority of the little group's late lunch. Her silence may have been in part due to Gohan's chatter, but Piccolo sensed that it was mostly because of the… he hesitated to call it an incident, seeing as it had not even been a scuffle…the, the… _the roughhousing – **there**_ – outside of the movie theatre.

 "Sorry." He said quietly. She looked up sharply.

"If it makes a difference, the last time the two of us went all out in a spar, I kicked his butt," Gohan garbled from around the entire loaf of bread that had been presented to the table before the meal itself was even ordered. Piccolo shot him a look of disgust and threw a napkin at the boy's face. The half-saiyan caught it deftly and tucked it into his shirt collar. "Well I did." 

"What?" Beth set her drink down, and stared at the teenager, Piccolo smirked. 

"Surprised?" he asked, casting a fleeting, fond glance at the boy next him. 

"It's a new development," Gohan said, leaning over Piccolo's arm and taking a look at his menu, "ooh get that," he pointed at some cocktail that Piccolo could not pronounce before turning back to Beth. "When he first started training me when I was little, I was lucky if I could dodge anything." Beth's eyes widened, and Piccolo's ears pinned back against the sides of his head, as he registered the expression on her face as one of horror.

 "How – how old were you?" 

"Four. And a half." 

"Five. You were five," Piccolo interjected. "Now pick out food."

 " _Five_?!"  Piccolo slammed his head into his palms, elbows denting the table.

 "I can't believe I even have to say this," he growled, "obviously, I am alien." He gestured to himself, " _obviously_. And so is he," Piccolo pointed at Gohan. The boy took another bite of the remaining bread. 

"Half, actually. But please don't tell anyone, my mom will throw a fit if people find out," Gohan said matter-of-factly. "Hey, Piccolo, so I was thinking that I could get two appetizers - ooh the spinach and artichoke dip look good, annnnd the pot stickers, no, wait, the buffalo wings, no, no, I want the stuffed mushrooms - the family-sized ravioli, a steak, and two cheeseburgers?"

 "I thought you wanted a snack?" Piccolo, appalled, checked the menu, tallying up the prices for what the boy was asking. "That's a meal."

 "Four meals, at least." Beth had set her menu down, gaping at Gohan. "I know teenage boys eat a lot, but that's..."

 "Not for me," Gohan replied cheerily. "I could eat twice that much and still have room for more."

 "The waiter is going to ask questions," Piccolo grumbled, he had eaten or observed enough meals to know how much a normal human consumed.

 "Well, you order the steak and the stuffed mushrooms, I'll get the two burgers, and the wings, no wait, the artichoke dip... Anyway, we'll split it up and no one's the wiser!" 

"What about your ravioli?" Piccolo turned a viciously exasperated glare on Beth, who raised an eyebrow. "Can't have him starving." Gohan grinned, and Piccolo had to forcibly restrain himself from kicking the Kid under the table. 

"You are not getting all of that. Pick two of the entrees, alright, Kid? Then you can get the appetizers." The Namekian offered, hoping the hungry half-saiyan would relent. Gohan groaned audibly but nodded. 

"I guess you're attracting enough attention as it is," the boy said with a sigh, nudging the namek heavily in the ribs. Piccolo shoved him back, but Gohan barely reacted, other than to scoot right back over to his side with that wide, stupid grin plastered on his face.

"So he never called, huh?" Bulma rapped her knuckles on the countertop. "Ass. I'll fire him."

 " _Oh, no, Bulma, it's probably my fault. I –"_ Chichi's voice crackled over the phone.

 "What did you do?" The heiress asked, examining her nails, she was due for another pedicure soon. All of this tinkering in the lab was really doing a number on her hands. "Honestly Chichi, I highly doubt that you did anything offensive." There was silence on the other end. "Did you?"

 " _I_ …" The younger mother hesitated, " _well I got the feeling that he didn't like Piccolo_ …" 

Bulma stood, smoothing out her skirt and walked over to the fridge, a frown on her face as she contemplated Chichi's response. 

"Didn't like Piccolo, huh? Well," she opened the fridge, tucking the cordless phone between her shoulder and cheek. "Why should that matter? You weren't on a date with him, you were on a date with Udon." Again, silence. "What did you do?"  It took Chichi a few moments to answer, in which time Bulma pulled a canister of vanilla yogurt and a case of fresh strawberries out of the fridge. 

" _Piccolo was being such a jerk,_ " she snapped suddenly, almost causing Bulma to drop the phone. " _He wasn't talking at all, and was just sulking in the booth, so I talked to him outside of the restaurant._ " Recovered from the young woman's sudden outburst, the heiress mixed strawberries into the yogurt, swirling her spoon around in the delicious concoction. " _I… I guess I might have been_ …" Chichi paused and drew a breath before continuing, " _sort of babysitting him."_  Bulma snorted into her yogurt. "Were you babysitting or mothering him?"

 " _I don't know_ ," Bulma's ears perked at the defensive note in Chichi's voice and she readjusted the phone. 

"Were you flirting with him?" she asked with a smile, not expecting anything more than a giggle and a light admonishment. 

" _Who, Udon_?" Chichi's questioned response came back to her a little too quickly. Bulma smirked.

 "No, Piccolo." 

" _Of course not_!" Now that was too quick of a response. 

"Alright, alright," Bulma said smoothly, taking a bite of her yogurt and strawberries. "You weren't flirting with Piccolo. He's not your type." 

" _N-not at all_."  Bulma rolled her eyes, and took another bite of her yogurt.

"Hey, is Gohan there? If Udon is a bust, then the two of us will have to find you someone else to take to the party."

 " _No_ ," irritation crept into Chichi's voice, and the blue haired genius could picture the pinched expression that always matched that particular tone. " _I have no idea where he went. He's been gone all afternoon_." Now her hand was on her hip, Bulma thought, " _he has so much homework to do!"_  

"Oh leave him alone," Bulma laughed, "he's probably out chasing girls." Chichi snorted in what could only be disbelief. "Or Piccolo."

 " _I'll go with the latter_ ," the boy's mother scoffed. " _he's always – oh dammit."_ Shrill screams interrupted her _. "Bulma, I gotta go, it's Goten."_  

"I get it, no problem, I'll see soon, okay?"

 " _Sounds great_ ," Chichi hurriedly disconnected, and Bulma set the phone down with a smile, shaking her head. 

" ** _MMMMMAAAAAAAAMMMMMAAAA_**!" A bloodcurdling yell cut into her thoughts. 

"God it's like they're connected," she muttered, shoveling the last of her yogurt into her mouth and running to her son's room.  Her thoughts strayed in Gohan's direction for one final moment, before turning entirely to her little lovechild. "Where is your _FATHER_?"

Gohan waved an enthusiastic goodbye to Beth, who smiled and returned the gesture, before walking into the Rice Cooker, shaking her head slowly. 

"She's way out of your league." Piccolo kicked Gohan's behind sharply with his heel as he turned away. 

"How so?"  Gohan caught up with him, spouting out superficial reason after superficial reason. Piccolo shook his head, "Does your mother know you're out here?" The boy grinned and shook his head.

 "She was taking a nap, and Goten was out with a full belly and a clean diaper, so I left a note saying I'd be gone for a while, then picked up your trail." Piccolo glanced heavenward, contemplating sending a prayer in Dende's direction for patience. It was a sarcastic thought; Gohan had been trying his patience for just under a decade. 

" _Delinquent_ ," the namek replied lightly, steering Gohan down a side street to escape onlookers. "Your mother is probably having a conniption, worrying over you." He cuffed the boy gently over the head before ruffling his thick hair. Gohan looked up at him and grinned, throwing his arms around Piccolo's waist, ignoring the namekian's irritated protests.

 "Are we taking your car home?"

 "No," Piccolo muttered, trying to detach his pet leech – Kid. "There is absolutely no point. Both of us can fly." Gohan rolled his eyes, groaning loudly. 

"I've never been in a car with you before," the teenager complained. "Please?" Piccolo huffed, pushing the boy off of him. 

"No. I didn't even use it to get here." 

"But –" Gohan protested, and he heard _It_. Piccolo's hand quickly snapped over the Kid's mouth, the other grabbing him under the arm before he pushed off the ground and rocketed skyward, Gohan hugged tightly to his side.

"Fine," Gohan grumbled, shaking off the heavy hand and steadying himself next to Piccolo in the air. "You win." Piccolo smirked and shook his head before angling in the direction of Gohan's mountain home, ready to face whatever screamed insults would be thrown at him by the boy's mother.

The following two and a half weeks passed by in a blur, finding Chichi continually casting the proverbial line into the supposedly plentiful sea of fish - men - with little success. She had even gone out once or twice with Bulma, to "practice mingling" as the older woman had put it, only to have several men bypass her entirely for her blue-haired companion. The entire experience was made even more disheartening by Piccolo's apparent success with the punky bartender. Still, there did seem to be something off about the namek of late...

"...Goten." 

"What?" The woman jumped, looking up from the half-asleep infant in her arms. The baby gurgled, blinking up at his mother with dark, watery eyes. She gently shushed him, holding him closer to her chest, before looking up at the subject of her distraction. 

Piccolo looked good in jeans, she thought, gaze traveling up his legs, consciously skipping his hips and failing miserably to ignore the way his chest peeked out of his plum v-neck. Utterly unfair. 

"Do you want help with Goten?" He asked, crossing his arms over his pecs. He hadn't noticed her stare, had he? No, as smart as he was, the namekian was as dense as any other man, right? Of course, that whole species was just confusing. He technically – she shook her head to clear it, not wanting to think about the physiology of the Namekian People. "No?" Chichi blinked, she could have sworn that she detected disappointment in his voice. 

"No, I mean," she stood from the couch, carefully so as not to bother Goten, and took a step towards Piccolo. "I would appreciate it." She could have sworn that his lips twitched in a smile as he took the baby from her. Goten's fat little cheeks puckered up and released a giggle,

"Lololo?" 

"Sure." While Piccolo may have been hiding a smile, Chichi let hers show on her face. Goten liked Piccolo. That fact had become increasingly obvious as her stoic… _friend_ …had taken to hanging around the house more and more often of late. "You look better," his voice was directed at her retreating back as she headed to the kitchen. 

"Who, me?" She twirled around on her toes, cocking a hip and resting the corresponding hand on her waist. "Well I've had a little more time to myself since Gohan started doing more with him. And since I've been eating out so much lately." He made an odd face, and she stuck her tongue out at him. Piccolo turned his face from hers. 

"I'll… I'll put Goten to bed." Piccolo's voice was soft. "I have to talk to Gohan anyway."

 "O-okay…" Chichi bit her lip as he whisked off down the hallway. " _Dammit_."

"So, how are things with Beth?"

 The question startled him. 

" _Hm_? Oh, uh, fine, I guess." He accepted a dish to dry, carefully holding it so as not to break the fragile object. "I mentioned Bulma's party. She seemed interested." He glanced at the woman, eyeing her out of the corner of his peripheral vision. Another week had passed, the time of Bulma's party was fast approaching, and Chichi – the reason for all of this nonsense – remained dateless. He tasted something that reminded him of guilt, but at the same time was different from guilt, sour the back of his throat. 

"Oh? That doesn't…" Chichi fell silent for a moment, and he thought he heard her swallow, before continuing. "That's… _wonderful_ news. Will you...dance with her?"

 "I don't dance," he replied, training his eyes once more on the ceramic.  Silence filled the air between them once more, and he dared to hope that the conversation would be left alone at that, until…

 "She a good kisser?"

 "Uh," Piccolo put the plate down as Chichi handed him another freshly scrubbed dish. "I...I wouldn't know."

 " _Whaaaat_?" Chichi spun to face him, dropping a bowl. He winced as the horrible sound of rattling ceramic clanked against his eardrums. "You two haven't kissed yet?"

 "Should we have?"

 "Yes! You've been going out for _weeks_. You hung out at her place just two days ago." She put her sudsy hands on her hips, and he wondered if she noticed. "I'd have thought you two hit a homerun by how long you were gone! You haven't even _kissed_?" Was it really that big of a deal? 

"We were playing chess," What in name of the dragon balls was a homerun besides a scoring method in baseball? One part of his brain seemed to be working its way towards an answer, but Chichi's next outburst was enough to distract it from drawing any conclusions.

 "I don't care if you were playing _Monopoly_!" Surely by now she knew how soaked her dress was getting. "Do you _like_ her?"  Piccolo, pinned to the countertop by the advancing Chichi, shrugged noncommittally. He certainly did not hate Beth, he would never have agreed to continue talking to her, let alone go to an aquarium, or her apartment if he disliked the girl. Chichi had that annoying habit of asking questions with obvious answers. It was infuriating. "Well, kiss her." 

"I don't want to," Piccolo was uncomfortably aware of how close Chichi was to him. The tiny woman certainly knew how to command attention, to create a presence. 

"Why not?" 

"It's _none_ of your business."

 "It is too my business." She argued, leaning closer. Was it just him or was she growing taller? Maybe he was shrinking?

 "How? How, Chichi, is this any of your business?"

He was bothered by her closeness, she could see it on his face, hear it in his voice. Chichi leaned even closer, stepping on his toes. There was a blush flooding his face, a bead of sweat trickling down his forehead. Interesting. Her hips brushed his thighs. He was annoyingly tall; she had to crane her head back to look up at his face. 

"Do you know how?" Chichi asked quietly, voice hovering on the border of a whisper, "how to kiss?" 

"That is none -" "You don't, do you?”

Her voice softened, and she slid a hand over his chest. She questioned her own intentions. What did it matter, really? It wasn't like it affected her in the slightest. Piccolo could figure it out by himself.

 "No." It taken him a minute, but he had admitted it. That was good. The words she next spoke surprised even her. "Do you want me to teach you?" 

"Wh - No! No." Chichi smirked, she could literally see his heart rate increasing. "That…that isn't necessary."

 "I know, but _poor_ Beth," she teased, placing a hand on his chest, "imagine her disappointment when her _big bad boy_ toy can't kiss?" Chichi could actually feel his muscles tensing; a twitch here, a spasm there. Her own heart was racing. 

"I don't…want..." but he didn't finish. _What did that expression mean_? He was staring at her, eyes flickering with some unknown sentiment. _Could it be..._? She shook herself of the thought before it could finish itself. _Completely inappropriate_. Although, her current behavior wasn't much better than that dangerous idea bouncing around in her brain... This was a bad idea. It was a _terrible_ idea, actually. What had she been thinking, suggesting such...a.. Chichi took a short step back, tugging on his shirt. Her feet still impeded his movements, and he was jerked down to her level. Their noses touched. She felt the heat on his face. She was looking right into those dark, confused eyes. He was cute. And clueless. Chichi's hands slipped up around his neck, clasping her fingers just beneath the base of his skull. 

"It's rude to stare," she murmured, pressing her body against his, feeling the panicky _ba-bump-ba-bump_ of his rapidly beating heart through his shirt. 

"What?" 

"It's rude to stare. Close your eyes."  He didn't. He wasn't going to listen. He was going to keep staring down at her, eyes wide, ears and nose a matching shade of violent violet, and oversized canines hanging out of his partially open mouth. She knew it. But... The tentative touch of his fingertips at her sides seemed to say something to the contrary. He still looked utterly bewildered by the situation; that heated purple blush bridging across his nose continued to spread, skin crinkling where it was discolored by his embarrassment. Chichi felt her own face heating up. _That stare of his!_ "I mean it, close your eyes," a small - no miniscule - part of her was screaming to back off, that Piccolo was off limits for so many reasons, but she ignored it. In one swift, gentle motion, Chichi pulled him down another few inches, and closed her lips over his. Piccolo went rigid, fingers clenching around the fabric of her dress, but his lips remained frozen, not reciprocating. He was not going to kiss her back, she knew it. She let go, tasting his breath on her face. Her heart was fluttering. This was wrong. The whole thing was wrong. She should _never_ have - Piccolo's arms circled around her waist, pulling her up, closer to his face as he returned the kiss. Chichi gasped against his mouth, eyes popping open for the briefest moment. Whatever part of her that had been screaming at her before was barely a whisper now, and fading fast as it drowned it whatever the hell was happening. What did this mean? Thoughts quickly became useless as she pushed to deepen the kiss, meeting little resistance to her advances. He had one hand under her hips, one on her back, creeping higher. A sloppy kisser, but not in a bad way, she thought, tongues sliding over each oter. Her hands cupped his face, played with his ears, and, in a dash of daring, fiddled with the antennae. Piccolo made a small noise and kissed her harder, pushing her tongue back into her own mouth. She fought right back, thoughtless. 

"Ow," She pulled back with a hiss; one of his fangs had snagged her lip. 

"I'm sorry," his eyes widened considerably. "I didn't - " 

"It's fine," Chichi touched the cut gently, feeling the sting as tender flesh was exposed to air for the first time. "It's fine." Piccolo was visibly shaken, and she felt guilt seeping in around the corners of her consciousness. She should have known better - she _did_ know better. But she had done it anyway. _Why_? Slowly, his grip loosened, and she slid down his muscled torso until she was staring at the soft purple fabric of his shirt. What had she done? Chichi stepped away, face flushing. Piccolo was breathing heavily, but she couldn't look him in the eye. Her gaze refused to travel higher than his chin. "I'll um..." 

"I'd better go," Piccolo interjected, voice rough.

 She watched him leave.

 Chichi sank into a chair, and buried her face in her arms.


	12. Take Somebody Home

Piccolo shook his head viciously, squeezing his eyes shut. He was acutely aware of ghostly fingers brushing over his face, of hot lips pressed against his jaw, of – _Goddammit, no_. The waterfall had never failed to bring him peace in the past. He opened his eyes and glared at the thundering cascade, how dare it betray him now, when he needed it most? Chichi's breath still tasted on his tongue, like…like… He clawed at his face, not caring when a sharp talon sliced his lip, until the coppery taste of his blood brought the hissed _"ow"_ back to the forefront of his thoughts. Before he was fully aware of his intent, Piccolo cut off the steady flow of ki that kept him airborne, plummeting toward the roiling pool of water at the base of his waterfall. At the last possible moment he twisted himself into a dive, cutting through the ice-cold water like one of those ocean mammals, the names of which eluded him at the moment. The shocking chill of the water forced every thought from his head except "cold." His chest constricted and air rushed out of his mouth in a flurry of panicked bubbles. He snapped his mouth shut. Piccolo opened his eyes under the water, looking back up to the surface before kicking down to the deepest area of the pool, avoiding the spot where the waterfall met the would-be calm lake. His skin prickled with the water's chill. But this felt better than before.

_Did it?_

He suddenly was no longer sure. Spitting out curses that did nothing more than form foul bubbles of wasted carbon dioxide, Piccolo pushed off of the bottom of the pool, surging toward the surface.

His head broke the surface of the water with a splash, and he looked skyward, confused and ill.

_Dammit, Chichi…_

"Do you want to tell me why _I_ 'm driving you to this date, and not the Jolly Green Jackass?"

"I would drive if I had a car," Chichi muttered, staring out the window, not seeing the scenery passing alongside the road. Her thoughts were a jumbled mess, and one that the widow did not at all feel like cleaning.

"Does _not_ answer my question," she chose to ignore the sentence fragment, and did not turn to her companion. "Chichi," Bulma started again, and Chichi heard the concern in the other woman's voice. "Did something happen between you and –?"

" **No**." She bit her lip, realizing that she had cut off the heiress before she had even completed her sentence.

An expectant silence weighed heavily on the air between them in Bulma's car. Chichi bit her lip. How could she tell the other mother – Goku's _best_ friend – what she had done? Surely it was betrayal. Even though Goku had been dead for over a year, and even though Bulma herself had said that moving on was good, healthy, and normal, and was even setting her up with men. But _Piccolo_?

_He had tried to kill Goku all of those years ago._

_He had even succeeded, albeit five years after his original attempt._

_This was the man that had **kidnapped** her son and then **laid down his life** for him, time and time again, and had even put his neck on the line for Goku._

_He had comforted Gohan when Goku was missing after Planet Namek, had quietly helped her with the more strenuous chores – she had always wondered from where all that extra firewood had come._

_And then_ – Chichi shook her head.

" _Nothing_."

"Alright." Bulma dropped it, but Chichi knew it was temporary. She would be after an answer again sooner or later.

The woman stared blankly at her translucent reflection in the car's window, taking in her subtly made-up face; she noticed a few worry-lines, the way her mouth was pursed tightly, eyes wide, hair falling around her face in pretty, youthful curls. The scientist had helped her style it, after several hours of convincing that the curls would make her feel more confident… They did, ever so slightly. Yet, despite how young, flirty, and even _cute_ she appeared, Chichi felt the exact opposite. She was _old_ ; there was nothing else to it! _Old_ and _widowed_ with two kids. The only person who wanted her was **dead**. And she was beginning to think that even _he_ had not wanted her, at least not in the way she needed to be wanted. Then there was **_Piccolo_** … He was so _good_ with the kids! And he was _steady_ , de _pen_ da _ble_ , _sane_! And…and he had not come around the house in almost a week. She had ruined it. Whatever chance she may have had with stoic namekian… it was gone. Out the window. The worst part? Chichi was not even sure she wanted _him_ , or was just lonely.

Chichi sighed, and leaned forward, resting her head in her hands and groaned. " _Hey_! You. Will. Smear. Your. Make. Up!" Bulma's hand swatted her head, some of the curls flouncing over her head, before grabbing her shoulder and pulling her back up. "No touching the face, and _no crying_ , Missy Jane!"

" _I don't want to do this anymore_ ," she whispered, "Bulma…I don't know what I want, if I want anything…" Chichi shook her head, curls bouncing on her shoulders. She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue, trying not to smear the immaculate eyeliner.

They were pulling up into the city, turning into a relatively fancy, hoity-toity area. Chichi desperately wanted Bulma to turn around and bring her back home, to her babies. _They_ mattered. Gohan and Goten. No one else had to be in her life, just her boys. Chichi closed her eyes, face pinching.

The car slowed. Halted. On the curb. By the restaurant.

Chichi removed her seatbelt, but did not get out of the car. Pale fingers clutched her skirt, shoulders hunched, head bowed, elbows locked.

"Hey," Bulma whispered, "I'm staying tonight, Vegeta's coming in a bit – and he will, I threatened to withhold sex for a month! – and this guy tonight, he's really nice, Chichi, honestly. Gohan really liked him." Bulma assured her, touching her shoulder and shaking her slightly. Chichi shook her head, flouncy curls flying. Nothing the older woman said could make her feel better.

"Bulma, I don't have a chance with whatever guy is waiting in there," Chichi sobbed, eyes welling with tears, "I'm not _confident_ like you, I _scare_ all of these men, and, and I get hooked on the ones _who don't want me_. Don't _need_ me." Like she had always feared Goku did not need her. "I feel like a fucking _teenager_ , not the mother of two," she choked. Bulma was suddenly very close, hands touching her cheeks.

"It's going to be fine, honey. You are a beautiful young lady, you have two beautiful little boys, and god _damn_ it, Chichi, your _ass_ is to die for!" Bulma snarled fiercely and squished Chichi's cheeks, each woman's nose pressing against the other's. Chichi's eyes welled with tears, but she said nothing else, waiting, desperately waiting for Bulma to say something, anything that would make her feel better. "You don't want to go out with a guy, _fuck_ society and go on being the _badass_ you are, _ya hear me?_ " Chichi bit her quivering lip, staring into her friend's eyes. "D'ya want me to go tell this goof that you decided you didn't want to do this? Because I'll do that. It is _your_ **_decision_**. _Your_ **_life_**."

Chichi took a deep breath, nodding.

"I'm done," she said, voice flat, stomach clenching. "I just want to go drinking," Chichi realized, eyes flickering from side to side as she slowly let herself speak what was on her mind. "I haven't drank since…Well since… _Shit_ , I don't know when. Before I knew I was pregnant," her voice increased in speed in volume, Chichi's eyes widened more than slightly, grabbing Bulma's wrists and upsetting the bangles and bracelets, "Goten's become incredibly interested in baby food, an' not my boobs. The kid tried to steal steak from Gohan's plat the other night, for cryin' out loud! _So let's go get drunk!"_

"Easy there, little tiger," Bulma laughed, tittering nervously and staring her, "you haven't drank since Goten? Annnnnd now you want to get hammered?" the woman laughed and shook her head, freeing a hand and placing it on Chichi's shoulder. "C'mon, Chi, let's take it easy, okay?"

Chichi groaned and shook her head. Since when did Bulma take it easy? She flopped back against the door of the car, covering her eyes with a hand.

"Ugh, I need to do something, Bulma! I need, _ughhh_ ," she gripped her temples and ran her elegant fingers through the glossy, painstakingly sculpted curls. Chichi looked up, chocolate gaze locking onto Bulma's, "come on, Bulma, _let's go_ , let's go _dance_ , and _drink_ and sing _karaoke_ and," she grabbed the other mother's hands and wrung them desperately. "Please, let's do something fun, _please_ ," Chichi pleaded and bit her lip, tears forgotten at the prospect of something so entertaining and mind numbing as clubbing.

A little prickle in the back of her mind...

The Rice Cooker had a dance floor, and the drinks were good. It was no club, but, hey, maybe she was too mature for the ridiculousness of the clubbing scene… "So, wha'd'ya say?" Chichi tilted her head to the side, fringe falling across her wide, shimmering eyes, lower lip puckering ever so slightly… For an added effect, she lifted her brows _just_ enough… And watched Bulma break. Gohan had not come up with the puppy-dog face all on his own, after all!

"Fine, fine, but if you're puking tomorrow, it's on you, got that?" Bulma wagged a finger at her, but Chichi only laughed and leaned back in her seat, feeling lighter and… _freer_ …than she had since she had smashed her lips against Piccolo's. Her face colored slightly. "Don't worry, I'll go let down that poor bastard inside, alright?" Chichi nodded gratefully, despite having completely forgotten about her proposed date.

Bulma hopped out of the car and sashayed inside the restaurant, leaving Chichi alone for a moment. She breathed a sigh of relief, and ran her hand through her bangs, heel of her hand pressing into her forehead. Chichi blew a puff of air up into her face, dropping her hand.

"I guess I'm going alone, sorry Baby," she whispered, shaking her head and picturing how disappointed Gohan would be to hear the news. He had been _so **excited**_ about this… Still, she could not help but feel that he was up to something. Sneaking around, positively _tormenting_ Piccolo, who, for the first time in years, seemed genuinely annoyed by his behavior… It just did not quite add up. Yet, for the life of her, she could not think of a reason behind it! "Must be puberty," Chichi muttered, reaching for the overhead mirror and pulling it down, checking her makeup and dabbing at the corners of her eyes. A little bit had smudged but… She pursed her lips to one side, brow furrowing. Her face lit up as an idea struck her, and she purposely smeared the eyeliner, a grin appearing as a rather makeshift, sexy, not-quite smoky eye appeared.

"Hey, look at _you_!" Chichi jumped as Bulma popped the driver's side door open, "lookin' hot, Sexy Mama!" The other woman buckled in and started up the car, pulling out of the parallel parking spot and merging easily into the road. "Where to?"

"Um," Chichi's chocolate eyes shifted slightly, and she twisted in her seat. "Rice Cooker?" Piccolo might be there. And…she wanted to see his reaction to her presence. Would he be indifferent? Scared? Rude? Aloof? How would _she_ react? She had no idea… Still… Chichi fiddled with her pretty blouse, and fixed the pleats of her skirt, smoothing it out over her nude tights. "It's not as wild as other places and…" Chichi tried to shrug nonchalantly, but, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Bulma's eyebrow shoot up, but pretended that otherwise. It was no big deal. So, she wanted to see Piccolo… It had been a while… Since…

"Why're ya blushin'?"

"I'm not!" Chichi gasped, hands flying to her face in a poor attempt to hide the pink coloration tinting pale flesh. "I'm _nnnnot_ ," she repeated, covering her face desperately and shaking her head. Of course she would have given away her thoughts on her face. Damn her for wearing her emotions on her sleeve…

Bulma laughed, a long, hard laugh that made Chichi sit on her hands to stop her from snatching the steering wheel. "Look at the road, _look at the road_ , **_lookatheroad_** _the **ROAD** , BULMA!_" To say she screeched would have been too kind. Chichi's voice rose, cracked and split. It was truly incredibly that the noise had not shattered the car's windows, sending shards of glass raining down on the two women.

"Ahahaha, hahaha, Chichi, Chichi it's fine, I've been driving for years – whoops, missed the street," Bulma roared with laughter and pulled a U-Turn, Chichi bracing against the car, arms and legs. "Oh relax, you drive live a bat outta hell too! Ah, here we go!" The car swerved violently and Chichi screamed.

"IT'S _DIFFERENT_ WHEN **_I_** AM THE ONE **_BEHINDTHEWHEEL_**!"

But Bulma only laughed and kept driving until the duo pulled up to the Rice Cooker. Chichi unbuckled her seatbelt and climbed out of the car, shaking. "Bulma, Bulma, I swear to _God_ , you are not driving me anywhere, _ever_ again!" She turned at the sound of the older woman guffawing loudly. "Oh shut up! My whole life flashed before my eyes." Bulma rolled her eyes and grabbed her arm, dragging her into the bar.

… * …

"Hey there, Chichi, what brings you here?"

Chichi jumped and whirled around to the bar, blinking wildly at the pretty bartender.

"Uh-um, Beth, hello," Chichi swallowed and brushed the curls back behind her ear, "how are you?" Her dark eyes darted to the side and landed on a tall, rather stiff figure, holding a beer and pointedly avoiding her gaze, a beer in his elegant hands. "Um, P-Piccolo."

Black eyes darted towards her dark chocolate ones, meeting them for a half second. A violet color flushed to his cheeks.

"Hello, Chichi…" Piccolo said softly, before his gaze dropped back to the bottle in his hands. The blush, however, remained. Chichi's eyes instantly darted to the side and down.

"Are you going to introduce me?" Bulma's tap on the shoulder scared a jump out of the dark haired woman. " _Oops_ , sorry." She beamed, although Chichi noticed the woman's raised eyebrow, and the flicker of bright eyes towards the tall green man for the briefest of moments.

"Ah, of course," Chichi stammered, much to the other women's amusement. "Beth, this is Bulma, President of Capsule Corp and Bulma, this is Beth, she's…" she blinked several times. "She's, well… Um…"

Beth raised both eyebrows, mouth a straight line, except where a small section of her lip was sucked into her mouth.

"Lovely to meet you," Bulma broke the tension, extending a hand.

"Likewise, now can I mix you a drink?" the blonde held up a few bottles, and Bulma grinned. "I'll take _that_ as a _yes_."

The bar was filling up with people – apparently the Rice Cooker was quite the happening joint, even on a Thursday.

"Don't these people have _work_ in the morning?" Chichi tittered as she sipped a martini.

" _I don't know_ ," Piccolo still was refusing to look at her. Why had she sat by him? He was infuriating. There was absolutely no way that she actually had feelings for him. It was ridiculous. He was an _ass_. Fuck all of that nonsense about him being great with the kids. A thousand guys were great with kids, and were cuddly to boot. Chichi rolled her eyes and flicked her hair back over her shoulders. She twirled in the barstool, resting an elbow on the counter top and her chin in the adjoining hand. "What?" Piccolo looked uncomfortable and shifted away from her, cheeks heating up.

"What yourself," Chichi replied, "where the hell have you been?"

Piccolo said nothing. Agitation had joined uncomfortable. Maybe it was the increasing noise. Maybe it was her. She hoped it was the former, fully accepting that the latter was the more likely option. _Damn him_. The thought was not quite as unbidden as she may have believed, having popped into her frazzled mind many a time since she had kissed him. Chichi rolled her eyes and turned away from him. "Whatever."

Beth strutted over and offered Chichi a refill. She stared at the glass for a moment before accepting.

"Except, make it one of those crazy things that all the guys want to drink but are afraid to order. With one of the umbrellas, please."

"Someone's getting _adventurous_ ," Bulma laughed, throwing an arm around Chichi and pulling the woman dangerously close to her more than ample breasts. Chichi rolled her eyes and sat up. "Hey, I thought you wanted to dance. And here you are squandering time with Mr. Mopey-Purple-Pants." The blue haired woman winked at Piccolo, who groaned audibly and looked away, muttering something about " _my pants aren't even purple, today_ " but Bulma and Chichi ignored him.

Chichi glanced at the decent dance floor. The television screens were tuned to some video of lights and dancing silhouettes, instead of the news or – God forbid, Mr. Satan.

"Yeah, I… I do wanna dance. Just wait till I finish this?" She held up the fruity concoction of vodkas and fruit juices with a guilty grin on her slightly flushed face.

"Dammit, Chi, you're not drunk alre – Hey! Vegeta! _Vegeta_ over here! OH DON'T YOU _DARE_ PRETEND YOU DON'T HEAR ME! **_HEY_**!" Chichi bit her lip as Bulma sprang from her barstool, pushing through men and women alike to reach her grouchy lover. How she had even seen the diminutive man through the crowd was astounding. The dark haired woman shook her head, amused, and sucked down a large gulp of the beverage.

"Slow down," it was Piccolo, of course. And, of course, he still was not looking at her. Chichi glared at him, and loudly slurped through the straw. "I mean it, you'll be sick."

"Oh whatever," Chichi spun away from him as Bulma approached, a very disgruntled Vegeta in tow.

"Oh great, as if this evening couldn't get any worse, now I have to deal with the Brat's big stupid _pet_?" Vegeta glared at Piccolo, who narrowed his eyes and growled.

"Watch it, _Short Stack_."

"As if you could scratch me, _Green Bean_."

Bulma rolled her eyes dramatically and flopped back down next to Chichi.

" _Aliens_ ," she groaned and ordered another drink. Suddenly, her eyes lit up, and she stared at Chichi critically. Chichi was just about to open her mouth to demand an explanation when Bulma willingly divulged her though processes without prompting. "We should get you laid," she said conversationally. Chichi blanched and choked on her drink.

"No we should not." The very idea of…of sleeping with a man tied her stomach up in knots. _No_. That was not happening. And yet… A series of not-quite-obscene images flashed through her mind, not unlike the events in the kitchen, and yet wholly different – naked skin touched by the feathery caress of emerald lips, sharp fangs tickling – oh hell no. Chichi shook her head violently, dark curls flying everywhere.

"Well why not? You haven't had a good fuck since Goten's conception." Chichi glowered at Bulma. She knew that she had no obligation to give a reason. Still, she felt the need to give one. She never had been one to remain silent, after all.

"I can't just go home with a guy and I am **_NOT_** hooking up in a bathroom!" Chichi hissed, eyes fixed on Bulma's. The older woman waved aside her reasons.

"Then we'll fix you with someone you know." Her stomach twisted. _Have mercy_. This conversation was quickly headed south.

"Like who?" it was past her lips before she could bite back the words. Bulma put a finger to her temple.

"Well, there's Yamcha…"

" ** _NO_**." Chichi shook her head, "Bulma, no, I don't – " But she was cut off as the other woman continued to throw around names like a child threw around daisies on the playground.

"Tien –"

Chichi blanched.

" ** _NO_** that third eye – _no I can't_. I know them too well." And they were Goku's friend's for God's sake. That would be a slap in the face. _Hi honey, I had a one-night stand with one of your friends after you died. Hope you're okay with that!_ Oh yeah, brilliant. There was a pause, and for a moment, Chichi dared hope that Bulma was not going to say _his_ name. The _one name_ that she could _very easily_ hear herself screaming in the bedroom... And then…

"Well, what about Picco-"

" _ABSO **LUTE** LY **NOT.**_ " Her heart hammered. It seemed that the bar had quieted slightly. Chichi looked around, breathing quick and more than slightly panicked. Piccolo and Vegeta were staring at her. How much had they heard? They had been bickering back and forth for the length of the current discussion… Perhaps nothing. But Piccolo's ears… His oversized, incredibly sensitive, and very, very _cute_ ears… Chichi looked desperately away. "No, Bulma. No."

"Alright, alright, fine," the blue haired woman relented, although Chichi was positive that there was a smirk twitching her lips upwards.

Chichi shook her head and sat back, groaning. It would not be the end of the discussion, she knew it. Her dark eyes flickered to Piccolo, who had a violet flush on his face and pointedly averted eyes. So. He had…figured it out.

"Ohhhh," she waved her hand, and a different bartender came over to refill her drink.

It was several drinks later that Bulma grabbed her arm and dragged her, stumbling, over to where a DJ was playing music and creating a lightshow. "Last time I was here, it was so quiet!" Chichi laughed and failed miserably to find the beat of the fast-paced dance music. "There was some awful interview with that buffoon on," she explained loudly. Bulma chuckled and shook her head.

Bulma whooped as Vegeta joined them, glaring at a few men that had started to get a little too flirtatious with Bulma. Chichi actually found herself coming under the attention of several people, none of whom had she invited to get so close. It was aggravating. The dark haired woman grabbed Bulma by the shoulder and nodded back over to the bar. "I'll be over there, stomach," she was only half-lying. The other nodded and replied that she would come check on her in a few minutes, and admonished her for having too much.

"Get water and something to eat, alright?" Chichi waved it off; she just wanted space. The bar would work just fine for that. She probably should quit alcohol for the rest of the night, though. It had been a while…

"Aw, hell, one more won't kill me," she muttered as she regained her seat next to Piccolo. Chichi put her face in her hands, and dropped some bills on the counter for another drink. Beth was busy down at the other end, so the other bartender mixed it. "Thanks," Chichi took it and wondered if she would be able to get onion rings or something else to eat. She felt more than a little woozy.

…*…

Piccolo heard Chichi make a small noise beside him, and turned to look at her. He raised an eyebrow. She looked a little…unwell. Her face was flushed, curls coming loose, and eyes glassy. He frowned.

"You alright?" his hand jerked, but did not move to touch her shoulder as a small part of his brain loudly demanded. Maybe it was Nail…? No, it felt too familiar to be that pestilence. He shook his head slowly. "Hey, Chichi." Peeling his hand off of the empty beer bottle, he reached over to her, pausing halfway between them in the air. He stopped, pursing his lips and dropping his hand back to the bar.

"Hmm?" Chichi tilted her head towards him, resting her chin in her hands. She rocked closer. Piccolo raised an eyebrow and leaned away from her by the same amount. Chichi pouted, "'M fine, why?"

"You look…" Piccolo hesitated, "you look drunk, Chichi." His ears twitched as she burst out laughing. The Namekian frowned and narrowed his eyes at her, "don't la – " He jerked away from her as she leaned in, skin coloring violet, lips parting slightly. "What are you doing?" he demanded, eyes searching for her gaze, finding it more than slightly unfocused.

She shook her head slowly, still laughing, although she looked confused. He suspected that the color on her cheeks was not all due to the alcohol…

"It's jus' tha'…" Chichi sighed and rubbed her face, "yer so…" she paused, mouth agape, "aloof. An' I wanna pin ya to a wall and do unnnnspeakable things wi' ya." The woman stirred her drink and lifted it to her lips. She seemed completely unaware of the look on his face. Admittedly, he had no idea of how stupid his face appeared at that very moment. Eyes bulging, brows halfway up his forehead, mouth open, antennae standing on end, cheeks a burning, flushed purple. His mind was blank. Chichi spoke again, voice slurred and unbelievably sad. Piccolo frowned, " _but I ruined it_ …"

"What…" Piccolo's ears flicked, and he blinked, "ruined…?" What had she ruined? He shook himself and slouched to one side, leaning on the bar and placing the majority of his weight on that arm. "Chichi, you…haven't ruined anything…" Was she talking about…that incident in the kitchen? The… He flushed, feeling her lips ghosting over his again. His eyes bulged as he realized that it was _not_ his memory, that he was _actually_ feeling this. He grabbed her by the arms and pushed her back into her chair. " _CHI **chi**_ ," his voice cracked, mind spinning, heat flooding through his body. Piccolo pulled away from her, "what do you w – " At the look on her face, he stopped, staring into her tearful eyes. He sighed. Chichi dropped her gaze and lifted her drink to her lips. "Oh _nooooo_ , no, you're done. No more," he shook his head and pulled it from her hands, ignoring her incoherent protests.

"I paid for th' whole thing!" Chichi whined, reaching for the beverage, but he held it far above her head. Unfortunately for him, it had the unintended effect of her nearly falling on him, pressing her body against his chest. "Give it _baaaack_." She paused, arms looped around his neck, staring into his face, making him incredibly uncomfortable. "I wanna kiss you, yer lips're so soft, didja know that?"

"Good to know," he set her drink down out of her reach and twisted his face away from her as she kissed him again, her lips meeting his jaw. Piccolo hissed and set her back in her seat for the second time.

"What's…going on…?" He blanched, it was… The Namekian's mind drew a blank as his head whipped back around to stare at the blonde bartender. Beth. Right.

"Nothing," Piccolo had his hands on Chichi's shoulders, physically holding her in place. "Someone's had too much to drink."

"Maybe _you_ jus' haven't had 'nough t'drink," Chichi suggested, and Piccolo nearly jumped out of his jeans as her heeled foot trailed up the inside of his calf.

" _N-nooo_ , you've had too much," the Namekian insisted, skin prickling in a manner he could only identify as… Shit, as _pleasant_ as Chichi's foot continued doing whatever it was doing on his leg. "Far too much. In fact, you're going home, _now_." Beth raised her eyebrows but said nothing as Piccolo stood, Chichi nearly falling off of her stool, tangled as she was in his lower limbs. "Shit," he caught her under the arms and set her on her feet. Chichi giggled and promptly stumbled, only to fall onto Piccolo's waiting arms. "Dammit, Chichi," he swore, pulling her close and looking around for Bulma and Vegeta.

"Hey," the blue haired woman dragged Vegeta over to him, eyes wide in concern. "Is she okay? Oh God, I told her to stop drinking and get something to eat." Bulma shook her head, and giggled into Piccolo's arms. "Oh God," she covered her eyes for a moment before looking at Piccolo apologetically. "I'll take her h –"

"It's fine, I've got her," Piccolo was already scooping Chichi into his arms, ignoring the giggled, half-coherent suggestions she was whispering in his ears. "Chichi, stop. No." He tilted his face away from hers as he walked over to the door, Bulma calling something out behind them, _"don't leave her alone!"_ and _"make sure she does not well **, you know** , with Goten for a while!"_ He thought he heard Beth, but he ignored all of them. Chichi needed to go home, and he was her fastest way to get there. There were several men giving the woman rather _unsavory_ looks.

…*…

The night sky was dimmed by blazing city lights, the sounds of nature drowned by noise pollution. Piccolo stood outside of the Rice Cooker for a long moment, Chichi held in his arms.

"Yer taking me _home_ ," she laughed, squirming in his arms and tapping his chest with a clumsy finger. "You _dooo_ like me, I _knew_ it."

Piccolo paled but ignored her. She was drunk, he reminded himself, and was spewing nonsense. He glanced down at her face, eyes glazed and unfocused, cheeks flushed, mouth partially open.

"Just… Just don't vomit until you're in your own bathroom, got it?"

Chichi's face screwed up in disgust.

"'M not gonna puke," she insisted, pouting and resting her cheek against his collarbone. Piccolo rolled his eyes pushed off, ascending above the city skyline in a matter of seconds. Chichi gasped and scrambled in his arms, making him halt his flight as he struggled to maintain a grip on her. "F'got chu could do that," she whimpered, clutching his neck in a stranglehold. Piccolo gently untangled her with a sigh, although she remained huddled close to him, trembling.

"I'm not going to drop you," the namekian murmured, some of his annoyance dissipating as they left the city behind, flying slowly over the countryside. At this rate, it was going to take over an hour. He could have them home by now – _her_ , her home by now, _not them_ – had he flown at even a quarter of his full speed, but Piccolo decided that he would rather spend his time drifting above the earth than cleaning vomit from his body.

"Sorry," Chichi whispered after a long moment of silence between the two.

"For what?" He looked down again, meeting her still-confused gaze.

"Gettin' so drunk," she looked like she wanted to say more, but her tongue did not seem to be on the same page as her brain. "Was thinkin' 'bout…'bout Goku an' how we ne'er really did this…" Chichi let go of him to gesture vaguely before panic crossed her face and she practically glued herself to him. Piccolo had to pause again to readjust her.

"It's fine. We all have bad days." What was the point to what he had just said? Piccolo glanced above him at the stars, wondering if there was an answer somewhere out there.

For a long time, Chichi said nothing, and he thought that perhaps she was out of things to say – for once.

"I reall' wanna kiss ya," she slurred, taking him off guard. Piccolo ducked his head down at her, eyes meeting hers sharply, brows furrowed. It was difficult to make out her face in the near-dark, but she looked honest enough.

"I sort of figured that out," Piccolo replied dryly, hoping that she would not see the blush covering his face, spreading across both cheeks and even touching the tips of his long, elegant ears.

They were almost to her home, thank God. He slowly began to descend, careful to not jostle her too much in the process. Trees surrounded them, casting them into darkness except for a light shining from the kitchen of her little cottage home. Chichi lolled placidly in his strong arms, fast asleep, breathing regular.

He landed, just outside the house, and tiptoed to the door. Piccolo paused, pondering just how to get inside, before gently shifting Chichi into one arm. It was awkward, but doable. He opened the door as quietly as possible and crept into the house. It was dark save for the kitchen light. Carefully, Piccolo glided across the floor towards the small seating area, and gently laid Chichi down on the couch on her side. She stirred, opening her eyes and staring at him for a moment, before settling back into sleep. Piccolo shook his head and grabbed a blanket off the back of the couch and covered her with it. She mumbled for a moment, but fell silent.

Piccolo pursed his lips, staring at her for a long, lingering moment. "Water and a bowl," he muttered, and walked over to the kitchen. He found a glass and filled it, returning to the couch to place it on the reading table next to her head. Next he rummaged around the cupboards for a bowl before remembering that he could just make one. The Namekian rolled his eyes and quickly conjured one. "Just in case you don't make it to the toilet in the morning," Piccolo glanced over the set up, evaluating it. He could leave now. Everything looked fine…

_Who was he kidding?_

Piccolo sighed and adjusted the blanket over her, then went to check on the boys. Both were asleep in their proper beds, Goten looking well fed and dry. _Good_. Gohan made a small noise when he ruffled the boy's hair, but did not rouse. The namekian shook his head slightly and crept out of the room, partially closing the door behind him.

Once again, he stood across the room from Chichi, who was making quiet noises that could have been words in her sleep. "You are going to have one hell of headache in the morning," Piccolo told her, sitting himself down where he stood and slipping into meditation…


	13. I Tried so Hard to Give You What You Need

Chichi's first conscious thought was a most vile swearword, the likes of which would curdle milk and make a nun faint. She sat up stiffly, clutching her forehead and instantly regretting her decision as the warm blanket slipped down her body, leaving her shivering. The woman swallowed a moan, her free hand moving instantly to her stomach, the one on her forehead slipping down her face to cover her mouth. Another groan made its up her body, and this time she could not stifle it.

"What _happened_ last night?"

She had not realized she had spoken aloud until she received an answer.

"You drank too much." A deep, masculine voice that she knew all too well, for it had been haunting her dreams, rumbled from across the room.

Chichi gasped, nearly falling off of the couch, snatching at the blanket and pulling it up to her chin. "Relax, it's me."

"Piccolo?!" Instantly, Chichi groaned again, grabbing her head. " _Ohhh_ … Oh, how much did I drink…?" she covered her face with the blanket. The room was far too bright… " _Ohhhhh_ …" Her mouth was dry, like it was full of ash and paper, a force like a vice crushed her temples together, and "for the love of **_God_** , turn off the lights, **_please_** …"

"No." She pulled the blanket down and looked in the direction of his voice, glaring at him. The Namekian warrior was seated across the room from her, cross-legged on the floor. His eyes were open, head bowed, and positively glowering at her from the floor. "I am not turning off the lights. You are going to have to deal with this."

" **Oh because you've been** – _oooh_ ," Chichi's voice dropped from a yell to a whisper, covering her face again. "Because you've been hung over before."

"I suppose it's pertinent to inform you that the only light that is 'on' is the sun." Piccolo sounded almost amused. She reached blindly for something to throw at him, finding a decorative pillow. Her fingers curled into the fabric, and the disoriented woman lobbed it in his general direction. "You missed me." He did not even sound mildly concerned. If anything, he sounded ready to laugh at her, damn him. Chichi, unable to form a coherent thought past all of the pounding in her skull, made a disgusted noise once more and collapsed back into the couch. She swallowed, but it was nigh on impossible. God her tongue was heavy and thick, nearly choking her. "Wh-who was that white 'n' purple dildo monster y'fought on the Slug Home World? B'cause his fucking tail is wrapped 'round my head."

"Oh yeah?" Piccolo's every movement, usually so quiet – silent even – sounded like a herd of elephants. The woman moaned and held the blanket more tightly over her head.

...*...

Piccolo pulled the blanket from Chichi's head, tugging it down around her shoulders. She recoiled and growled at him. He rolled his eyes and he picked up the glass of water he had left for her the night before. "Here," the namekian grunted, handing it to her. "Drink."

Immediately, he went to get her another, finding the tallest glass in the Son house and filling it to the brim. Piccolo glided across the floor, halting by the couch and staring down at her. "You look like hell," the former demon murmured, brow furrowing in concern. Her eyes were bleary and surrounded by smeared makeup, hair sticking up at several horrendous angles. Chichi looked almost like a Saiyan, and his lip twitched, barely noticeable, in amusement.

He had always been able to recognize Gohan in her face, seeing more of her than Goku in the boy, but in that moment, Chichi looked incredibly like her son. Still, the thought of the little woman with a Saiyan's strength… Well, coupled with her fiery temper, Piccolo privately doubted that evil would have _ever_ threatened the planet. Assuming there was even a planet to threaten…

They would have taken one look at the fierce little mother and fled.

"What are you smirking at?" Chichi grumbled, her voice thick and thirsty. He handed her the new glass, and took the now empty glass from her.

"Nothing," Piccolo replied, shaking his head and turning away. "Just… What do you need?"

"Peace and quiet, a _dark_ room," he heard her swallow, and gulp at the water, " more w- oh God."

Piccolo's ears twitched, head whipping back around in time to see the little woman tumble off of the couch, bringing the blanket with her. She scrambled on the floor, " _bathroom_ ," Chichi gasped.

The Namekian's ears pinned, brain connecting her condition to her single-worded plea. Still, despite his disgust at the idea, Piccolo found himself stooping to help her up and half-carrying her to the master-bathroom.

"Hey, Mom, Piccolo?" A sleepy Gohan poked his head out of his room as they rushed by, Piccolo giving the boy a look and waving his free hand to deter any more questions. However, Gohan followed, alarm radiating from the boy's form.

"Mom, are you –?" he did not have a chance to finish as Piccolo closed the bathroom door on him, smacking the boy in the nose.

She threw up for several minutes – long, _horribly_ uncomfortable minutes. Piccolo's nose and eyes were burning from the stench by the end of it, and yet he stayed to hold her hair out of the way, wipe her mouth with a towel, and take the swearing.

He had long ago begun to question his sanity, but this without a doubt was all of the proof the warrior needed. Whatever composure, _whatever soundness of mind he had ever possessed_ was gone.

Gohan had cracked it, put a hole in his armor, widening it with time.

The Kid had created more than enough room for his little brother and unpredictable mother to worm their ways in – hell, they hadn't even _needed_ to "worm" their ways in, had they? They had just walked – crawled? – passed the walls around his heart and set up camp, _damn them all_.

Piccolo cursed quietly as he helped Chichi to her feet.

"Bed, huh?" he murmured, supporting her completely. Her entire body was trembling from the force of the illness, skin clammy. She said nothing, only making a very small noise of agreement. "Do you want different clothes?"

" _Mmm **hmm** ,_" she was still wearing last night's outfit, minus the shoes. Piccolo did not remember removing them, and hoped that they had not fallen off her feet during the flight home.

"Mom, are you sick? What –"

" _Gohan_ ," Piccolo murmured, "not now." His eyes flicked to the boy's worried face, and he offered a reassuring half-smile, which Gohan thankfully accepted, and fell silent.

He set Chichi on the edge of her bed hesitated, hoping she would not object to a magical outfit change. "This uh, it might tickle."

"What are you – _ohh!_ "

...*...

Chichi gasped and squeezed her eyes shut as Piccolo waved a hand over her head, and bright, warm light surround her for the briefest moment. The warmth felt nice, but she could have done without the brightness. Once it was gone, she opened her eyes, albeit tentatively and slowly, head pounding. She found herself clad in a surprisingly soft purple pants and a matching shirt. It was a little big, and hung a little low in the chest, but she did not notice that particular aspect of the clothing, too interested in sleeping off her hangover.

"What's it with you and purple?" she mumbled, even as Piccolo pushed her back onto pillows, and pulled blanket up around her shoulders.

"Go to sleep." A large bucket appeared by her bedside table, and he stalked over to the windows, adjusting the blinds before stooping to pick up the fussing Goten. "I'll keep the kids occupied. Just…"

Chichi watched him as he paused in the doorway, bouncing Goten and nudging Gohan out into the hall. Had she been in a clearer state of mind, she would have noticed the way his eyes lingered on her face before he spoke again. "Just get some sleep, got it?"

She tried to watch him leave from her spot on the pillow, silently cursing herself as she heard the door click far too loudly.

 _Not this again_.

Not with _him_.

Another warrior…another _wanderer_.

But… Well, Piccolo was not really a restless wanderer, was he? He had been constant, consistent, there.

 _Here_.

She tried to tell herself it was the headache, the upset stomach, and not the way her heart skipped a beat when she had noticed the unadulterated concern on his face, but her eyes watered, and her breathing hitched.

 _Not again_.

Waking up hours later with several glasses of water on her beside table, all arranged so neatly that she wanted to cry simply out of the obvious care that had been put into the act, Chichi wished she were still asleep.

She remembered.

Oh, not all of it, she was sure.

There was no way she remembered everything. Images were so fuzzy, blurry…vague. The dark haired woman rolled onto her side, slowly drawing a hand over her face.

How could she have done that?

She had…had tried…

She had tried to kiss Piccolo.

And _God_ had she gotten _sloppy_. Chichi curled into a ball and groaned, pressing her face into the pillow. She felt like crying. If the incident in the kitchen had not ruined her in the man's eyes…the previous evening certainly had.

It was not that she had ever had a chance with him anyway, the woman reasoned, rolling slowly onto her stomach, arms sliding underneath the pillow. Piccolo was… he was younger than her. He was everything that she did not want in a relationship, in a partner. Cold. Aloof. Restless. Detached.

But at the same time… She turned her head to the side, eyes locking on to carefully arranged glasses of water. He was sweet, caring. Dependable. Piccolo was everything that she _did_ want…

Chichi squeezed her eyes shut tight, painfully aware of the soft fabric draping over her figure. It was damn replica of his gi. How it was so comfortable to wear and durable eluded her.

The gentle pad-pat of feet outside of the door caught her attention. They were too heavy to belong to Gohan…

Chichi bit her lip, and waited.

The door handle sounded so loud. She was still hung over…but that somehow… did not seem to be the reason the sound was so prominent in her ears. In that moment, her entire world revolved around – no, _was_ – that doorknob.

She closed her eyes, sucking in one short, shuddering breath.

"Chichi…?" the voice was a quiet murmur, instantly recognizable, gentle and kind. "You're awake."

His face was soft, more understanding than it had been earlier in the day. Eyes gentle, meeting hers. "How are you feeling?"

"' _M alright_ ," Chichi mumbled, averting her gaze. Her stomach clenched, but it was different from needing to vomit.

"That's…" Piccolo paused, and her eyes glanced back up to his face in time to him look at the floor, his cheeks coloring slightly as he scowled. He looked… _cute_ …like that. Her lips twitched as Piccolo's long ears flicked.

He had changed his clothes, although they were still human, _very_ human. And very casual.

"Are you wearing _flannel_?" She reached out and touched his chest, her fingers brushing down his abdomen, before she realized what she was doing. Piccolo had tensed the second they had made contact, and the color on his face had spread to his ears. "Yep…yep that's…that is flannel…"

Chichi retracted her hand and sat up, pulling the blanket up over her chest as she did so. The woman stared at her knees for a moment, mind blank, swirling with nothing, nothing but blurred images and foggy feelings. Silence stretched between them, dividing them more than all the light-years that stood between his planet and this one. Finally, she said, "I'm sorry about last night."

"It's…fine…" Piccolo's voice sounded unsure.

" _No_ it's not," Chichi looked up at him, eyes blazing, and her heart still for one long, aching moment. She swung her legs over the side of the bed, fiddling with the neckline of the shirt he had made her, before standing. He took a step back, the line of his shoulders stiffening, losing his grace and fluidity. "There is no excuse for how I behaved. Even with that much alcohol in my system…" Chichi sighed, closing her eyes and wrapping her arms around her body, feeling the softness of her arms, the warmth radiating from her.

This was not going to be easy to say.

_At all._

And yet…it was for the best, she reminded herself.

This was _Piccolo_ , after all.

 _But_ …

"We need to talk," she murmured, opening her eyes and lifting her head, slowly locking onto his face. Water stood in her eyes, and for a long, painful moment, Chichi said nothing more. She took a deep breath, sucking in air and holding it.

He was staring at her, eyebrows tilting up, ears perked. God, even his antennae were alert, paying attention to her. "I…" Chichi paused again. She felt vulnerable, trapped. "Let's… go outside." Stalling. Classy. She really had no interest in having this conversation. She just…had no desire to end…this. These feelings.

But what would change? Really, what would change?

They were not…

 _Together_.

So, he would be around a little less.

Gohan could still visit him whenever he wanted to do so.

 _Goten_ …

Chichi bit her lip as she lead Piccolo out of the house, holding on to the very edge of his hand, the tip of his fingers, minimizing the contact between their skin.

They passed Gohan in the kitchen. He was feeding Goten homemade fruit and vegetable puree with considerable success. The baby saw Piccolo and his mother, growing distracted and waving his chubby little hands around.

" _Lololo! Mamamamama!_ "

"Oh, M –" Chichi held up a hand, and Gohan fell silent, although she saw that frown on his face. Her heart broke. She could fix this without continuing on this path. Without… Without this. Couldn't she?

"I-I'm sorry, Baby, I just need to t-take care of something real quick."

Chichi's fingers tightened around Piccolo's for a moment, before she quickly dragged him the rest of the way outside.

Goten was just as much attached to Piccolo as Gohan had been for as long as she could remember.

Once they were outside, standing in the walkway, Chichi released his hand, drawing her hand away as slowly as possible. She was reluctant to do this, to nip her…her _feelings_ in the bud. But it had to be done. There was just…no way around this.

Her heart could not take another a warrior.

She knew that.

So there was no point in this continuing.

"We need –"

...*...

"To talk," Piccolo cut off the woman, brow crinkling as he tilted his head to the side. What on earth was she doing? Her touch had been so…so _not_ -Chichi. Chichi was obstinate, confident, and fierce! And she rarely – if ever – stammered! What was going on with her? It _had_ to be reminiscent of the alcohol… He frowned. She usually kicked him out of the house, threw something at him, slammed the door behind him… Well, not… _lately_. Lately, she had been full of smiles and kind looks. The former demon watched her intently, ears twitching in confusion.

"You didn't have to cut me off!"

 ** _There_** she was.

Piccolo said nothing, watching her as fire flared within her chest for a brief moment. The ghost of a smirk flitted across his emerald lips, disappearing as quickly as Chichi's spitfire spirit faded. Piccolo's ears flicked in response to her short outburst; an apology.

He raised one eyebrow, crossing his arms.

"Go on," she should really be in bed. The woman still did not look quite right… Pale, fidgety. Her eyes widened, and her fingers gripped more tightly onto her arms.

She looked as if she wanted to run.

Piccolo's ears twitched, her nervousness infiltrating his senses and making his heart constrict, lungs failing.

"I…I care too much…"

 _Too much_ … How could one care _too **much**_? That…

Piccolo's eyes narrowed imperceptibly as she continued, watching her as she avoided his gaze. "About you."

Cared too much. _About **him**_?

He opened his mouth, lips parting ever so slightly in surprise.

Pleasant…? Surprise…?

His stomach clenched, dark eyes trained on Chichi's lips, watching them slowly articulate words that he never thought she would say. Not now. After…after everything.

"And I need…. I need to care _less_."

 ** _What_**? "It's not that I don't care about you!"

His mind was still reeling.

Care _less_?

Why would she need to _care less_? Did it mean that she…? His mind darted, unbidden, back to the feel of her lips on his. Her arms draped around his neck. The feel of her pressed to his chest.

"It's just…I need to put my…my kids first. _Me_."

...*...

"It…it isn't that I put myself first. It's just…" Chichi watched his face, desperate for a sign of comprehension. There was something there, she could see it, but…it did not seem to be… _understanding_. "I just need to not get hurt. And. I think… Getting hurt is all that can happen here." _That wasn't right!_ Chichi's face flushed, and she closed her eyes, raising one hand to her temples. "With us. Not us. You. This isn't what I'm trying to say."

"Then what are you _trying_ to say?" Chichi's eyes flashed open as she looked sharply back at Piccolo. He sounded almost…hostile. Words choppy, short. She frowned. A few years ago, Chichi would have brushed this sort of behavior off as his testy nature. Now, she could not convince herself that he was annoyed by her faltering speech. There was something else wrong with him.

"Wh-what I'm trying to say is that I… I need things to go back to the way they _used to be!_ " she had not meant to snap, and brought her voice back down. Soft and gentle once more, Chichi continued, a motherly expression crossing her face. "Do you understand?"

Her brow furrowed, watching his face closely.

Her eyes took in the dynamic nature of his expression, how his face opened and then closed in less than a second. She could not even register what emotion his face had displayed. It was gone too quickly.

"Yeah," Piccolo whirled around. Without the cape, it had little effect, lacking his usual flair, grace, and intimidation. Chichi stood frozen, staring at the way his shoulder blades crinkled the flannel shirt he wore. "I understand _perfectly_."

She took a tiny step forward, but he was gone, just like that. Chichi blinked, a sinking feeling in her stomach telling her that she had just destroyed something fragile, irreplaceable, and priceless. Her teeth found her lower lip, chewing on the soft flesh.

...*...

His heart was a tempest.

He was painfully familiar with – yet a stranger to – the feelings raging inside of him. Piccolo was tempted to zip over to Capsule Corp and blow it up. Then, the stupid party would not even happen. Vegeta might kill him, but he cared little in that moment.

_He felt alone._

He had not felt truly alone in years. Since the Kid has pushed his way into his heart, Piccolo had not been alone. He had a family, friends.

And yet… _Alone_ was not the only emotion flooding his soul.

The Namekian landed in the middle of the wasteland where he and Gohan went to spar. Barely registering his location, he slammed his fist into a plateau, destroying it with ease.

Bits of rock and earthy shrapnel rained down around him. Dust blew in his eyes, forcing them closed. The residue coated his face, sticking to the fluffy fabric of his flannel shirt. As the product of his frustrations died down, Piccolo opened his eyes. He took in the sight of the obliterated plateau, feeling entirely dissatisfied. Piccolo shook his head, crossing his arms and promptly sitting down amongst the mess.

"What am I doing?" he muttered, hunching his shoulders in agitation. Never one for fidgeting, Piccolo tried to remain stock-still. He failed. Miserably. The warrior's lip curled as he shifted from hip to hip, rocking in his seat. His fingers curled into his biceps, claws digging into the flesh and pinching him through the fabric.

Nail's conscious, still lurking and floating around inside of his head, poked and prodded him. Kami joined in, their soft whispers explaining exactly why he was upset, even as he tried to push their words away. Piccolo's frown deepened, creasing his face.

He swore in Namekian, uncrossing his arms and vigorously rubbing his face.

...*...

Gohan's brilliant plan was falling through. He was well aware of the fact as the day of the party drew ever nearer. Cold had descended upon the lands, beckoning winter closer. The teen was quite annoyed by the most recent developments. He sighed, supposing that it was his fault, after all. He was the one who had set Piccolo up with Beth. How was he supposed to know that the svelte bartender was going to _want_ to put up with Piccolo's surliness, socially inept conversational skills, or…or… Gohan sighed, crossing his arms, and leaning back in his desk chair.

The worst part of the whole debacle was that his mother was currently dateless, and, after whatever had happened the morning she had been ill, was refusing to attend any more outings.

She would be just fine alone, she had said. Of course, Gohan had refused to give in. His mother would most certainly not be going alone to a silly party! The teen had insisted that she allow him to be her date. Gohan closed his eyes, a quiet, regretful sigh escaping him.

" _Mom, please!" he had begged, clasping her hands, "I'm going anyway!" His mother's face – so tired, so beautiful and perfect – had slowly smiled, before she had pulled him into a tight hug, kissing his forehead._

" _Alright, but only if you promise to dance with any pretty young girls that are there, okay?"_

_He had agreed, obviously, even though he had no intention of leaving her…_

Unless he could fix the mess he had made!

"But there doesn't seem to be much of a chance of that!" the teen groaned, spinning his chair around. " _Oh no_!" he had kicked too hard off of the ground, sending the chair careening across the bedroom. Gohan yelped as he was catapulted through the air after the chair capsized. He barely caught himself before crashing through a wall. Hovering in an awkward position, Gohan wiped his brow and set down on the ground, carefully. He walked back around to where his chair lay askew on the floor. The teen righted it, about to sit down when his mother burst into the room.

"What was that?" Chichi demanded, and Gohan scratched the back of his head, chuckling nervously.

"I just overbalanced in my chair, no big deal." His smiled faded quickly, noticing the ghostly pallor that had returned to her face. It had been two days since Piccolo's sudden departure, and his mother had offered no explanation as to why. It was troubling. Especially since Piccolo had been avoiding him! _Him_! His _best friend_! It hurt… Gohan stopped himself from shaking his head, as Chichi would notice and _know_ what was on his mind. He knew better than to ask why Piccolo was behaving strangely; if she had not offered the information right away, there would be no getting it out of her.

"You're _sure_ you're fine?"

"Yep!" Gohan assured her, his smile returning as he walked closer and hugged her tightly. "I'm…" the boy paused, "excited to go to the party with you, Mom." He pulled away, offering an almost sad smile. He should have just offered to do this in the first place, let Piccolo go about his usual hermit-habits. Figured out something later.

 _Who was he to meddle in the affairs of the heart anyway?_ the teen thought as he embraced his mother. He was a kid, had never had a girlfriend, and everything he knew – or _thought_ he knew – about love had been learned in movies and from his parents. "I love you."

Chichi sounded slightly surprised as she replied, running her fingers through his thick hair. It felt wonderful. She used to do that all of the time, and he missed it terribly.

"I love you too, baby." Chichi murmured, pressing her lips against his forehead. "I'm looking forward to it too," she smiled. There was an earnestness in her voice that relieved Gohan immensely. She had been quite down since whatever had happened with Piccolo!

A part of him felt guilty, realizing that at least _part_ of his plan had worked. Chichi's heart was more open and easy to read than Piccolo's.

 _Except…_ Gohan smiled at his mother, it was _Piccolo_ who had given him the idea. The boy was one of the few people – maybe the only person in the universe – who could read Piccolo like a book. A _comic_ book. He saw how Piccolo would linger, the way his face flushed, hear how he would become tongue-tied and lose his natural eloquence.

Gohan frowned, and sighed, causing Chichi to tilt her head to the side, "what's wrong, honey?"

"Oh, n-nothing," Gohan shook his head, "just, uh, thinking about what I'm wearing to Bulma's."

His mother smiled, the skin around her mouth and eyes crinkling ever so slightly. He had never understood why wrinkles were considered unattractive. Looking at his mother in that moment, Gohan had never seen such a beautiful person. "You should wear that blue dress Bulma bought you for your birthday," he murmured. "It looks really nice."

Chichi's smile widened, and she ruffled his hair again.

"Thank you, baby."

...*...

The day before the party, Gohan was sitting in the kitchen, rocking impatiently from side to side while waiting for his dinosaur-steak sandwich to finish on the panini-press when the phone rang. He stared at it for a second before leaning over and picking it up. "Hello, Son household! Gohan speaking!"

" _Hey… Gohan, it's Beth."_

His ears perked up immediately. Why was _she_ calling?

"Um, h-hi," the teen stuttered once, his sandwich blown from his mind as his brain raced to try and discern why the bartender was calling. Of course, Piccolo did not have a phone, so if she was trying to get in touch with him…

" _Is… **Piccolo** there?"_

"No, he, uh," Gohan frowned. "I haven't seen him in a while, honestly. No idea where he is." He supposed that he should go out and find the outwardly-surly loner. "Whaddaya need him for?"

There was a pause, and Beth's voice sounded slightly troubled.

" _He blew me off for a movie last night…"_ she paused again, _"is he still going to the party he mentioned or…?"_

Gohan's face twisted, his head tilting to the side. Piccolo never backed out on a promise, no matter how silly he personally found it. Ever since accidentally missing Gohan's first birthday party after Namek, the quiet warrior had been almost overly attentive. And very punctual.

"Yeah, he's going. He promised _me_ …" the boy was mildly concerned. It was unlikely that Piccolo had forgotten about a date… "He might have gotten caught up with Vegeta – the short angry guy that Bulma's seeing – since they hate each other in this weirdly friendly way, but I'll go check on him. Sorry about that. He isn't very good with social protocol."

Beth gave a short laugh, although Gohan thought it sounded forced.

" _Sure, that…sounds good. So…I'll see you and your mom tomorrow night?"_

"And my baby brother," Gohan added absently, pursing his lips. "Okay… Bye, I guess."

" _Yeah, bye."_ The bartender hung up, and Gohan set the phone back on its base.

"Oh, my sandwich!" he hissed after a moment, yanking the smoking behemoth from the press. The sandwich was gone in a matter of seconds, and the teen quickly exited the house, jumping up into the air and seeking out his best friend's ki.

"Let seeeee, if I was big grumpy green man, where would I make my lair…" Gohan murmured to himself as he headed in the direction of Piccolo's waterfall. He could feel the namekian in a meditative state, "and the signal is definitely coming from over… oh, there he is! Hey! _Pick-a- **loooow**_!"

The warrior looked silly, out of place, floating up above the elegant cascade of water in jeans and flannel shirt. He wrinkled his nose before he dove. Had Piccolo been meditating since what ever had happened with his mother? The would certainly explain why he had failed to meet up with his date to the party…

...*...

Piccolo attempted to appear as if he had been expecting Gohan. He had not. The Namekian frowned, pursing his lips and flicking an annoyed ear in the teen's direction. A part of him was hoping… For _what_? That _Chichi_ had sent him? To say that she hadn't meant _it_? And why was he so interested in Chichi taking it back anyway?

He knew why.

He closed his eyes for a moment before turning his face to Gohan. It did not matter now, in any case. She had made it clear that she was not interested in caring about _him_ , which surely meant that she viewed him in the same way most other humans did – a scary green monster. And _why_ should he care?

" _Uhhh_ , Piccolo?"

" _Hm_?" Gohan floated in front of him, head tilted to the side. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

The teen raised an eyebrow and levitated closer. Piccolo leaned back, pinning his ears. "What?" he snapped, swatting at the boy.

"You stood up Beth last night."

Stood up? What..?

"That's tonight."

"Not according to her."

He opened his mouth, ears twitching as he mentally calculated the day. Piccolo pursed his lips, realizing his mistake. He must have been deeper into his meditation than he had thought. Time had completely slipped away from him… The party was tomorrow, _not_ two days from now… He swore in Namekian, and saw Gohan's lips twitch in amusement. "Figure it out?"

"Shut up." Instantly, Piccolo regretted it, seeing the brief look of hurt crossing the boy's face. He had failed to put the playful lilt into his words…because he had not been joking. Rarely was the warrior in a joking mood, but today… God help whoever made him angry. He had been in an awful mood ever since…

He shook his head. So much for meditating. "I'm sorry, Kid."

"It's okay, I know you never mean it."

Piccolo's mouth opened, and he looked away. Hurting Gohan was one of the worst feelings in the world… And somehow he could not make himself feel guiltier. He was sorry, yes…but he felt detached from the emotion. "You and Mom got in a fight, right?" Gohan startled him out of his reverie. He stared at the boy, realizing that his emotions were prevalent – _painfully_ obvious – on his face. Lips slack, eyes wide, pained, brows furrowed and ears startlingly still. "I _thought_ so," the teen murmured, frowning sympathetically as wind tickled around them, catching Piccolo's antennae. "You're so upset that you're still wearing human clothes."

Piccolo's eyes widened even further, and would have been mortified to see his reflection. How on earth had he not noticed _that_?!

The teen beamed at him, slipping closer and wrapping his arms around Piccolo's neck. "Are you still going with Beth?"

Piccolo ran a hand through the boy's hair, frowning.

"I was not even going to attend."

" _What_?" Gohan drew back, expression easily readable. Shocked and irritated. "You promised me you'd go."

"Things change, Kid," Piccolo muttered, chest clenching as Chichi's face slipped to the forefront of his mind. He closed his eyes and shook his head. "I can't make it, I just…"

" _Piccolo_!" Gohan grabbed his face, and the warrior reflexively pulled away, but the boy held on, smooshing his face. "You have to go! You…you just _have_ to!"

"No," Piccolo murmured, "I – " But Gohan cut him off, positioning himself in the warrior's lap.

"I know this isn't how you wanted – isn't how _I_ wanted – stuff to be, doesn't mean that you shouldn't go… It'll be better if you go."

" _Gohannn_ ," he growled, narrowing his eyes.

"I'm taking Mom, like I'm her date. Just… _Please_?"

A quiet growl rumbled up out of his chest, but Piccolo relented as the boy pulled out his not-so-secret weapon. He really was helpless to resist the damn Face. He was still reluctant, but it would be better to just give in and go to the stupid party. The Kid would never let it go. It was just… The idea of being around people… That weren't either the Kid or Chichi… He did like Beth…she was more than tolerable but…

"You _know_ if you don't want to go _with_ _her_ , you can call and cancel…"

Piccolo chose to not wonder how Gohan had heard his thoughts. It had something to do with their connection. He had always thought that he was more proficient at blocking than what he was, apparently.

"This was _your_ idea in the first place, Kid," he reminded the boy in a quiet growl, brows drawing together. Gohan was playing at something, and it was starting to bother him that he could not figure out the brat's game…


	14. Waiting for the Knife

Chichi once again found herself staring at the woman reflected back at her. She sighed, running a hand through her thick, midnight locks. The party. Just a few hours until it was time to leave... And then…

Taking a step away from the mirror, her dark eyes perused her complexion. A rueful smile crossed her lips, tugging them up at the corners.

How _different_ from that first night… No longer did she appear exhausted and run down. Color had at long last returned to her skin, cheeks fuller while still accentuating her cheekbones. It gave her an elegance that she had never before felt.

Goten had grown accustomed to – and she believed, had developed a preference for – semi-solid baby food, which had allowed her body to recover from months of breastfeeding. She still breastfed him because of the health benefits, but it was far less stressful on her body. She smiled, pleased with her appearance at long last.

“Not bad,” the woman murmured, and stepped back up to the counter. Nimble fingers combed her long hair, pulling it up carefully, smoothly. Making sure there were no annoying bumps or stray loops of hair aside from a small piece purposefully left down in the back, Chichi deftly tied it up with a simple band first. A quick braid followed with the left-behind lock, which was then wrapped around her bun and held in place with a bobby pin. It effectively hid the hair tie.

Her lips pursed, something was not quite right. Ah! She gently tugged two small strands down in front of her ears. They bounced youthfully on the sides of her face. A happy sigh escaped her, _there_ …

“All that’s left now is the dress,” Chichi murmured, turning her head from side to side to equally view each different angle. Her makeup was subtle, light. It was just the way she liked it. She felt that she appeared age appropriate, not trying to look like anyone other than the mother of two that she was.

“Hey Mom, I was wondering – _oh_.”

Chichi turned to face her son; Gohan stood in the doorway, bouncing Goten in his arms. “You look _beautiful_ ,” he smiled, and it took up his entire face.

“Oh, thank you, Gohan,” Chichi beamed, stooping only slightly to press her lips against her eldest son’s forehead. “You’re looking very handsome yourself.” After examining her son’s appearance for a moment, Chichi reached for some styling product and attacked his unruly hair. The boy balked slightly, trying to escape and plead his way out of a makeover.

“Mom! I’ve got Goten..! My hair’s fi –”

“Your hair is a _mess_!” the mother chided, giggling quietly and trying to tame her son’s wild mane. Gohan groaned loudly but relented.

“Don’t get anything on my tux, okay?”

“Who do you think I am?”

The occupants of the small bathroom quickly erupted into laughter, even little Goten. Giggles and gurgles bubbled out of the chubby baby’s body, making Gohan and Chichi laugh even harder.

Straightening, Chichi shook her head. “I suppose I should finish up, huh?” she murmured, turning to face the mirror. “We’ll need to leave in an hour or so, right when Grandpa gets here.”

Gohan nodded enthusiastically, although Chichi noted something akin to apprehension on her son’s face. “Everything alright?” the mother asked, eying her eldest in the mirror. He looked… _troubled_. That was it.

She supposed that he was disappointed – it was rare that one of Gohan’s schemes failed – and probably anxious as well. It would be… _emotional_ … The whole gang together.

Chichi paused, not the _whole_ gang after all… One person would be missing. Slowly, she lowered her hands to the bathroom counter. Goku would not be present. 

That had to be at least part of his troubles, surely, she decided after a moment’s deliberation. Gohan had coped surprisingly well.

And… There was the matter of Piccolo.

The namekian had not come around the house at all…not since she had spoken to him outside of the house.

He had taken that talk… Chichi frowned, remembering the man’s face. He had looked hurt. Almost betrayed. Like he had wanted to say something. She pursed her lips, tugging at her hair and rechecking her makeup for the third time. Piccolo’s face had opened…closed… It had happened too quickly for her to register even three of emotions that had appeared on his usually stoic face.

“Everything’s fine,” Gohan replied, flat. Her eyes flicked to his face and watched him for a moment as the boy bounced his brother in his arms. “I’m just wondering if Piccolo’ll even show up tonight.” His words seemed to hang in the air. A fishhook.

Piccolo was the bait, then? Chichi fluffed her bangs, twirling the strands in front of her ears around to finger to add a subtle curl. Alright then.

“Oh yeah?”

Cautiously, she nibbled at the bait, not taking the hook, but giving her son enough interest to get him talking. “Why do you say that?”

“He said he wasn’t, but then I told him that he had to.”

She said nothing, although her interest was more than piqued. If Piccolo was not at the party… She would be very upset.

For several reasons.

“What did he say to that?” Chichi asked after it became apparent that Gohan was not going to give her anything else until she tugged on the line again. The boy shrugged.

“He was sort of annoyed that I want him to go so badly.” The woman snorted, imagine that. “Growled at me.” Gohan adjusted his grip on Goten.

“Piccolo growls at everyone, Baby,” Chichi murmured, “I wouldn’t take it personally.” She would slap him the next time she saw the Namekian. No one growled at her baby, not even that _grumpalumpagus green dummy_ was allowed to growl at Gohan.  The boy laughed then, shaking his head and rocking Goten in his arms.

“I know; Piccolo just doesn’t know how to express himself nicely.” The boy chuckled again, “or…at all, really.”

She had to agree, and nodded slowly. What next came out of Gohan’s mouth more than caught the widow’s attention. “I don’t think he wants to go with Beth.”

Chichi turned her head to face him.

“O-oh?”                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       **~~~*~~~**

Piccolo took a deep breath, feeling his chest expand, lungs swelling with the force of the air he had inhaled. He held it for as long as he could without growing dizzy, and exhaled slowly. He forced all of it from his lungs, waiting until his chest ached before inhaling again.

He was going.

Despite not wanting to attend, he was going.

He would have gone anyway, Piccolo admitted to himself. Gohan’s plea had only been a part of it. It had made him put on the tux. Show up _on time_. There was not a doubt in the former demon’s mind that he would have made some sort of appearance.

Late. In his gi. Probably would have embarrassed himself in some way.

Piccolo sighed; it mattered little now, he supposed. He was going, and would be arriving on time.

His usual punctual self.

What a _nightmare_ this had become.

The namekian’s bright eyes darted down to examine his appearance, taking in the plum vest, the fitted jacket, and the tie that lay across his chest. Piccolo’s ears twitched spasmodically as he stretched his arms, testing the jacket’s sleeves and adjusting them as needed.  It…was not a _bad_ fit, he supposed, twisting his body and checking out how the pants looked on his rear end. His antennae wiggled ever so slightly. _Okay. That looks…_ His lower lip slipped over the upper, a pondering pout taking over his expression. He had never paid much attention to physical attributes as more than a way to identify individuals by sight until his sensitive ears had picked up on whispered comments regarding his “super cute butt” and “amazing cheekbones.” He was not entirely sure what was so attractive about an ass, but then again, exposed necks had always made him… _aware_ … It must have something to do with species differences. Regardless, these pants were rather flattering. At least, he thought so.

A slight niggling in the back of his mind – Nail – agreed. Piccolo frowned.

“Not so sure how that makes me feel,” he grumbled, cheeks heating momentarily.

He had the sensation of detached indignation, knowing it belonged to the other Namekian, and he vaguely heard Nail’s snarky reply of “ _I was agreeing with you, Jackass_.” He did not need to tell Nail that it was precisely such an occurrence that made him…uncomfortable. Was that the word? The man lived in his head for God’s sake.

After a moment’s hesitation, Piccolo took off, flying in the direction of Capsule Corporation. He was supposed to be meeting up with Beth there, but he would not blame the woman if she chose not to attend. It would be perfectly fair, he reasoned. She must know by now that he had little-to-no physical – or emotional – interest in her. Surely the young woman was not willing to waste much more of her time on someone who cared so little. He pursed his lips, scowling. It did not help that he had failed to tell her of his… _conflicting_ interest.

The worst part of the entire matter, Piccolo – or maybe it was Nail. It was becoming more difficult with each passing year to discern when one of his fusions snuck into his consciousness - admitted to himself, touching down just outside of Capsule Corporation’s grounds, was that he refused to voice his emotions about anything, or anyone. It was putting more than a slight damper on his personal life. If one could even refer to the life he lead as a “personal life.” His ears flicked, _no_ , it was simply his increasingly dissatisfying _choice_ of a personal life.

People were beginning to file past the gate. Stepping into the queue, Piccolo shook his head. Such thoughts were not worth think –

“Piccolo! Hey, _Pick-oh-low_!” he turned around, barely catching Gohan before the boy barreled into him.

“Watch it,” the Namekian growled half-heartedly, his hand instantly tangling itself in the thick, unruly spikes. The Kid’s head felt crunchy. Piccolo raised an eyebrow and withdrew his hand. What had Chichi tried to do? Gohan grinned, looking up at him and beaming.

The ecstatic expression on the Kid’s face was shockingly short-lived. Piccolo raised one eyebrow; “cross” was a rare emotion to see on Gohan.

“Where’s Beth?”

 _Good question_ , he thought, unsure.

Instead of responding, he asked a question in return.

“Where’s your mother?”

Gohan raised an eyebrow, his expression shifting to one with which Piccolo was unfamiliar. Or…perhaps it was…satisfaction?

“Why?”

Piccolo glowered at him and shook his head, growling in his native tongue. Roughly translated, he snarled something along the lines of, “ _you know perfectly well why, youngling_.” Gohan, whose Namekian was more than fluent, still refused to answer, and Piccolo was not in the mood to argue with the boy. He gave his charge a rather petulant glare, and received an out-stuck tongue as a reply. Even if it was in jest, Piccolo was irritated. He was in not in the mood for Gohan’s games.

 _This was all a game, was it not?_ It was some of Kami’s useless wisdom – not even wisdom. It was a goddam sack of nonsense. _Life is a ga_ – Piccolo silently promised the old man that all of the remnants his consciousness would be destroyed if he did not shut the hell up. Kami’s voice faded away with a few grumbles, much to Piccolo’s relief.

 _You know this_ is _a game, don’t you? A game set in play by your precious little Kid._

_Shockingly, Nail, I pieced this together, and there is no need for you to tell me that the Kid is playing all of us like fiddles._

 

**~~~*~~~**

 

Gohan grinned, watching his friend’s eyes glaze over slightly. That usually meant Piccolo was having a conversation with the other entities in his head. It was a good time. He could usually get away with nonsense around the stoic namekian while this was happening. The teen turned around, hearing the telltale clicking of heels on the pavement. His mother. Gohan grinned, waving her over. Bulma had hired a babysitter to watch Goten and Trunks; judging by the absence of his little brother in his mother’s arms, Chichi had already found the person and handed over the squirming little angel.

“Gohan, there is a line to get into the par –” he watched her sashay over to where they stood, and waited for Piccolo to come back down from Planet Namek.

It was possible that this would all still work.

“Piccolo…”

The namekian’s head whipped around, and Gohan could not suppress his grin. That expression. Thinly veiled shock.

 _Good_.

Gohan watched, his face surprisingly calm. Fighting was not all he had learned from Piccolo, after all. Far from it.

He watched, taking a step back, letting them see each other for the first time since that fight. Or whatever had happened. He was still confused and rather in the dark about all of that nonsense. That was all it was, after all, nonsense. It could not have been that important. Gohan crossed his arms over his chest, barely containing his smugness behind a beautiful mask of indifference.

Piccolo’s eyes widened, his usual, stoic mask falling away, even if it was only for a moment. _Oh how the namekian stared._ It was immensely satisfying. To see the serious warrior thrown for a loop… Well, actually, if Gohan was being perfectly honest with himself, Piccolo was confused and out of his element far more often than most people noticed. Either way, the teen was pleased…even if Piccolo’s uncharacteristically open expression lasted only a fraction of a second, it was long enough for him to see…which meant it had lasted for just enough time for someone _else_ to see.

“Chichi…”

“Good to see you.”

Chichi, for her part, managed to keep her face relatively neutral. It was impressive, although her son knew her well enough to catch how her eyes lingered on a certain green giant. He could barely contain his smirk. _Maybe this crazy plan would work after all…_

As his mother came to stand beside him, awkwardly placing him between herself and Piccolo, Gohan cast his gaze around for the one person who could still throw a wrench into all of this.

Depending, that is, on two things.

One, if she showed up.

Two, if either of his beloved, idiotic, parental figures decided to speak their hearts for once, rather than their heads.

 

**~~~*~~~**

 

Chichi, for the first time since the Tournament so many years ago, was turning heads. And not because friends and bystanders were terrified of her very approach. She felt both confident and exposed. After being married – and then widowed twice– over the course of a decade, it felt strange to have people looking at her in this way. Even out on all of those silly, distracting dates, no one had looked at her quite like this. She suppressed a giggle.

 _Like a movie star_.

The dress she wore had something to do with it, Chichi reminded herself, although she had to give herself some credit. It had been _her_ pick! She had been so surprised when Bulma had remembered it… What an amazing birthday gift that had been! A-line, sky-blue, clinging in all of the right places before falling elegantly off of her hips to swish around her legs, the dress was perfect. There was even a slit cut up the one side, revealing _just_ enough of her leg to be alluring without being scandalous. She _was_ the mother of two! It just would not be proper to display that much of her body. At the moment, the woman had to admit that she was more than a little cold, but the shawl draped around her shoulders helped to fend off some of the chill.

Thank God – or rather, sweet little Dende – that it had been a mild winter, and snow had not fallen in their area. Still, it would be rather nice of Bulma to get the damn party started and let them inside!

Whilst waiting, Chichi snuck a glance at Piccolo; how was he doing? The look on his face when they had last spoken… No matter how much she tried, she continually failed to identify the gamut of emotions that had flashed across his face.

He had seemed so… _flustered_ …when she had greeted him. That was highly unusual. Piccolo was stoic, dependable, unflappable… Well, not unflappable. She knew that. A blush, evident even under the subtly-applied powders, colored her cheeks as she recalled the scene in the kitchen.

 _Unflappable_ was an adjective one could toss out the window, surely. Piccolo was just quicker to recover from shock than most other people. _Maybe not today,_ she thought, noticing how he continued to sneak not-so-subtle glances at her. Her blush spread, the color deepening.

Chichi blinked and looked around, realizing that someone was missing… _Beth!_ Where was she? An unwanted thrill jolted her stomach. Did that mean – _No_! She shook her head, fingers twitching. He was not what she wanted, Chichi reminded herself fiercely, not what she _needed_! She bit her lip.

Just as she decided to inquire as to the spunky bartender’s whereabouts, arms were thrown around her neck from behind.

“ _Chiiichiiiii_!” it was Bulma, “oh my god, you look amazing! And your _ass_ , damn! Ooh! And you found the babysitter, good.” She had to laugh as the heiress released her, nodding her thanks. There was no chance to speak to Bulma further. The blue-haired bombshell was off greeting other guests, ushering them onto the grounds.

Music could already be heard from the back of the building as everyone began to file inside. Chichi caught a glimpse of Piccolo hesitating, before shifting off to the side and out of other people’s ways. Waiting for his date then? She did not have time to ponder the situation further as Gohan took her arm and led her through Capsule Corp’s grounds to the building in which the event would be held.

Place cards were set out around an ice sculpture of a… Chichi squinted.

“Is…Is that a gorilla?”

“No,” Gohan tilted his head. “Gorillas and other apes don’t have tails like that. That’s some sort of really nasty – oh!”

“What?” he had obviously figured it…out… “Oh. Ohh. _Ohhh_.” It dawned on her then. “I guess Vegeta had a hand in the decorations, huh?”

“I can’t believe Bulma cleared having a giant, evil, space-monkey center-piece,” Gohan replied, searching around for their table cards.

 

Once seated, Chichi looked around the table, taking in the simple yet elegant decorations arranged around the massive conservatory-turned-ballroom. She chewed her lip, trying to figure out who else would be sitting with them. Dark eyes lit up as she recognized a short, bald figure walking next to a taller blonde woman.

“Krillin, Eighteen! Hey!” Gohan stood and waved, “are you at our table?”

"Hey, buddy, yeah we are! Looks like Piccolo and Yamcha are here too.” Krillin laughed and clapped Gohan on the shoulders, leaning close and whispering something that she could not catch. She pursed her lips, and smoothed out her dress, fussing with the manner in which it clung to her thighs.

The blonde woman sat down in the seat to her other side. Chichi knew that she really must say hello; it would be beyond rude to say nothing… She swallowed. It felt wrong to address someone as a _number_! Why had Eighteen not picked a name? Hadn’t they found one somewhere in that lab? On papers? Chichi flushed.

“Hello,” Eighteen murmured, setting a small black clutch on the table and going through it. “Chichi, right?”

“Yes, hello,” the mother hesitated, swallowing, “E-Eighteen, correct?”

Ice blue eyes blinked in confirmation, and the other woman returned her attention to her clutch. Finally, she pulled out a tube of lipstick and a mirror, as well as a pack of tissues. Chichi watched out of the corner of her eye as Eighteen reapplied her lipstick, a gorgeous shade of brick red. The dark, deep color was a lovely contrast to Eighteen’s pale skin and blonde hair. It was not too bright, Chichi thought, rubbing her lips together and thinking about her own lipstick, wondering if it was enough. She had chosen a light pink, just enough to be visible. Then again, she was a widow, and Eighteen an unmarried woman. Younger too, she thought.

“Krillin,” Eighteen’s voice held a certain amount of command, but, Chichi thought, she sounded quite gentle, which surprised her. After all, that was the woman who was part of a team trying to murder her late husband…

“Huh? Oh, haha,” Krillin practically skipped over his girlfriend, bringing a smile to Chichi’s face - it had been a long time since she had since the man this happy. “What’s up? Oh,” he chuckled and blushed as the woman rubbed at a lipstick mark on his cheek. Chichi smiled, averting her gaze as Krillin pretended to protest the treatment, all with a massive smile on his face.

She caught Gohan’s eye, and leaned over to kiss his forehead.

“What was it that Krillin was whispering, huh?”

Her son chuckled, shaking his head.

 

It was then that the rest of their table arrived. Chichi avoided Piccolo’s gaze as the tall namekian sat down next to Gohan, although she could not help but glance at Beth, taking in the magenta cocktail dress. She looked down at the table in front of her.

It did help to note that Piccolo looked _exceedingly_ uncomfortable. She was unsure if it was because of his clothes, or the atmosphere. Chichi reached for her ice water, already on the table in front of each of their seats, and raised it to her lips.

Brown eyes closed, trying to block out the sizzling tension she could feel building at the table.

Or was it her imagination?

 

**~~~*~~~**

 

It was not Chichi’s imagination.

Unless, of course, Piccolo was also imagining the same thing. And Piccolo thought himself beyond such silly happenings.

Piccolo tugged at the collar of his shirt, loosening his tie. Beth was silent next to him. He wondered rather absently if she was angry with him. It would make sense if she were, he thought to himself, considering he had blown her off and was, as a whole, a rather poor date. Piccolo was curious as to why she had even wanted to continue this ludicrous endeavour in the first place. She probably had far more viable options in a partner than he. A socially inept, emotionally stunted _alien_. He was not even sure if he was shy or simply clueless. Or even interested.

Piccolo licked his lips, pointedly ignoring Nail and Kami’s whispered tips. What in the name all that was logical and good could _those_ two idiots have to say?

 Dinner passed with a torturous slowness that really should not have bothered him. Piccolo was used to long amounts of time passing without conversation, without noise or really much of anything going on outside of whatever he was doing with his ki. But this… This was fucking agony. Even Krillin, who almost always had something to say, was oddly quiet.

Piccolo would have liked to blame the bald Z-Fighter’s timidness on the man’s date, but Eighteen made pleasant company and fine sparring partner. No, the former monk could feel it too.

 _Static_.

Not quite electricity, but close. An uncomfortable amount of tension floating in the air. Bulma had been speaking for a few minutes, but Piccolo had tuned it out, ignoring it in favor of attempting to sort out his thoughts. Just as he was beginning to get somewhere, the party hall erupted into screams and cheers. His eyes shot open, although other than that, there was no outward appearance of surprise. Well, and his ears twitched. But no one could truly fault him for that, what with his hearing and that amount of noise. He shook his head, blinking. What had just happened?

He glanced at Gohan, who was standing up, chair on the ground, clapping and whooping. Chichi was still seated, but she too was clapping, although she looked shocked, eyes wide and blinking slowly.

“After all this time, they’re finally getting married!” Gohan laughed and leaned down to lift his chair. Righting it, the teen sat back down. “Finally, right, Mom?” _Married_? He had not thought Vegeta to be interested in that type of commitment. The world was full of surprises.

Unless of course, Bulma had coerced the saiyan into the arrangement.

That would be rather _un_ surprising.

Piccolo’s dark eyes flickered back over to Chichi.

“Yeah. It’s great,” her voice was soft, almost indiscernible from the background noise. Piccolo’s ears twitched, and he looked around as softer music began to play. He raised an eyebrow, twisting in his seat to observe as Bulma dragged Vegeta out into a large clearing in the tables set out in the massive party room. What was that for? _Oh_ , Piccolo’s ears twitched as the clearing’s purpose became clear. _Dancing. Of course._

The one thing he had been dreading.

 _Well_ , he admitted to himself before either Kami or Nail could yell at him, _one_ of the things about this evening that he had been dreading _._ It was pretty high on the list. Right below confronting Chichi about… Well, he was not exactly sure what the confrontation would be about, but there was surely going to be one.

_You should tell her how you feel._

_Ah, I do believe he would if he had any idea as to what it was_ he _is feeling. Poor boy_. Kami sniffed from somewhere on left side of his temple. They were getting rather annoying. It was pity that he could not simply eradicate them. _Don’t bother throwing up that Tough-Boy act, Child. You’ve grown rather attached to our presence_.

Piccolo’s lip curled in disgust, but he did not reply. Partly because their table was suddenly abandoned as the music shifted. Gohan pulled Chichi from her seat, running backwards and beaming, Eighteen and Krillin standing with surprising poise. Even Yamcha headed out to dancefloor.

“ _Ahem_.”

Piccolo looked at Beth.

“I’m probably terrible.”

“Let’s find out, huh?” And Piccolo wondered what was the point of having incredible strength if tiny little humans had personalities strong enough to make him - as well as everyone else, it seemed - forget that the ability existed.

 

**~~~*~~~**

 

She supposed that it was to be expected, as her obviously reluctant date allowed her to drag him into the center of the dancefloor. It had been apparent several weeks ago that Piccolo had no interest in her. A part of Beth wondered if the stoic alien had that sort of interest in anyone. Perhaps his own species, should there be any others on the planet. Of that, she had no idea. Then again… There did seem to be someone who had caught Piccolo’s eye. Maybe even more than that.

Dancing with him was awkward, stiff. Nothing like the way he moved normally.

It might have to due with his lack of attention.

Beth followed his gaze, not surprised to see it landing on Chichi. Beth was not a jealous woman. It was no contest, and Piccolo was not a prize. Even if he was handsome enough to be one, if they were living in some silly romantic comedy. All the same, it was almost painful, if she cared to admit it to herself.

“Hey,” she poked him in the chest, trying to get the namekian’s attention. “Tell me what’s going on in that head of yours.” He startled, if only slightly, and she smirked, just the corner of her lip turning up. A wry smile. “I’d greatly appreciate it if you’d at least admit to me that you’re not interested and break it off rather than drag this along like toilet paper stuck to a shoe.” Beth raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow as Piccolo blushed. “Ah, so you just haven’t wanted to admit it, huh?”

“I…” She was almost surprised that he seemed willing to discuss it period. “I suppose you’re right.” Finally, his line of sight lingered on her, rather than darting back to Chichi. Maybe it was because their history. Piccolo had yet to continue, so she jerked her head in the widow’s direction.

“Something goin’ on between you two?”

Piccolo’s mouth opened, and he stilled, some of the stiffness leaving his muscled form. He looked confused. It was almost cute.

“I don’t know.”

Not entirely an unexpected response, Beth supposed, taking a step back from him. “We… we kissed. Once. A few weeks ago. And then I… That night she was drunk,” if he said he had slept with her, Beth was going to punch him in the teeth. She had a few heavy rings on, even if he was was super strong macho alien hero-thing, she could cause some damage. It seemed to be the prefered method of getting a message across with this group, anyway. “Put her on the couch with water and a bucket. Blanket. Sat across the room.” Beth relaxed slightly. “Then she said she felt too much. And didn’t want to feel as much anymore.” He looked troubled. And she was not very good at reading the green man. Very troubled then.

Beth pursed her lips. Was his agitation based on spurned feelings, or…? Well, of course it had something to due with spurned feelings. It sucked being denied.

“You like her?”

Piccolo did not reply, but he looked away, cheeks dusted with purple.

“ _Or…_ ” she tilted her head to the side, “are you just infatuated because of how good kissing feels?”

“I...don’t know.”

Beth thought he sounded hesitant. Perhaps he had been interested in Chichi for a while, but had not wanted to take a risk? Because of Gohan? He and the kid were very close. It was obvious that the preteen thought of Piccolo as his father. That could be it.

“You really don’t?” She had to ask. Piccolo shook his head. Beth believed him. “Alright, kiss me.”

“ _What_?” Finally, some emotion. “Why would I…?”

Beth smiled then, an almost sad smile. She really had liked him.

“Because if it’s just kissing-sparks, and not feeling-fireworks, kissing me should feel the same as kissing her.”

Heavy brows furrowed. It made sense to him then. Maybe.

"I... Suppose..."

She leaned up, and he stiffly met her in the middle.

 

**~~~*~~~**

 

It just as the awkward not-couple's lips touched that Chichi happened to look over. Of course, she did not notice the stiffness, the slight reluctance on both their parts. All she could see was Piccolo kissing someone.

For an instant, it seemed that time had stopped. Her heart broke all over again; the shattered remnant left behind by Goku's death, so painstakingly glued back in place, fell apart, crumbling anew.

Was this her fault? Surely it was, her brain whispered, antagonizing her and replaying the scene on the front steps.

_I care too much. And I need to care less._

She vividly saw the emotions crossing Piccolo’s face, slowed down and played at a tenth of their original speed. Her brain was making it up, imagining it. There was no way to accurately remember such a tiny second, she told herself.

And it was over.

Time returned to normal, seemingly shockingly fast and loud. The cloud lifted, she shook her head. Gaze purposefully dropping away from Piccolo and Beth, Chichi pulled Gohan close, hugging him tightly for a moment. She heard a few quiet, surprised protests, but Gohan’s arms squeezed her gently.

“What was that? Mom?”

“Nothing, Sweetie.”

And it would be nothing.

 

**~~~*~~~**

 

“Well?” Beth took a step back, analyzing her own feelings. Kissing-sparks. That was it. And barely even those.  She had tried on her end, and it felt like he had as well. Nothing. No emotion beyond bland disappointment. Her feelings towards him were akin to realizing that the supposedly hot oatmeal one was eating had no maple syrup and was cold.  All in all, the feeling was immensely anti-climatic.

“Nothing,” Piccolo told her flatly. She thought, perhaps, that he looked vaguely terrified and relieved all at once. “Not a thing. Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Beth shook her head, waving a hand. “I know my skills are adequate, so if you didn’t even get a spark…” she sighed, “then you _really_ like someone else. And I think you should make it clear, and talk with that person.” She raised an eyebrow and glanced over at Chichi and Gohan.

Piccolo nodded, not looking at her. Of course not. His eyes were reserved for Chichi.

She was allowed to feel disappointed, _right_? Afterall, Piccolo was handsome, tall, muscled beyond anyone’s wildest dreams… And he was not what she wanted, she knew. And she was not what he did either. “Go on. I’m going to get food now anyway.”

Beth doubted he even heard, watching as long legs ate up the ground. She had to at least see what was going to happen.

 

**~~~*~~~**

           

He had no plan. Piccolo was not one to dive in blind; it was reckless and a sure fire way to get himself killed. In his experience, plans were _good_. And he did not have one. That was _bad_.

And yet, he did not care. Could not _bother_ to care. That quick, brilliant mind of his, so able and willing to formulate something and even calculate out the risks on the spot, had only one word, one idea, on which it could focus. It was so unlike him, and yet, it felt right.

 _Chichi_.

It felt right even as he drew so close as to smell her shampoo. Piccolo vaguely heard Gohan, as he shoved the boy to the side yelp "you're supposed to say, 'mind if I cut in?' Idiot!" but ignored him.

"What are you -" Chichi gasped, her eyes widening. Piccolo's mind was absent of logic, of reason and of anything that could point him in the direction of thought that might tell him this course of action was not the most intelligent of strategies he had ever utilized. In fact, this was one of the most illogical, ridiculous, and downright dangerous things he had ever done. _Including_ jumping in front of a Ki blast he knew would kill him.

Heavy arms wrapped around a petite form, scooping the woman clean off the ground.

It should have been obvious to him that his very approach to Chichi was enough. The fact that he wanted so badly to hold her, to kiss her, should have been clue enough. It was. It _really_ was. But...

Their lips met.

Chichi was rigid for several seconds, the reverse of the kitchen. Slowly, _slowly_ she reciprocated, her arms slipping around Piccolo’s neck, body relaxing. She pressed her lips against his, a small noise reaching his ears.

His heart was hammering, breath short and fast.

It was desperate, sloppy even. But in that moment, nothing else existed. For a moment, the Earth ceased to spin, the very universe stilling. Time stopped.

They broke apart, panting, staring at each other, mouths open, Chichi still hanging several feet off the ground in Piccolo’s arms.


	15. We're Gonna Burn the Place Down

 

_For a moment, the Earth ceased to spin, the very universe stilling. Time stopped._

 

It was short lived…

 

“ _WHAT THE **FUCK** WAS THAT?_ ” Chichi screeched, recovering first and slamming her fist into Piccolo’s face, busting the loopy expression right off of his features. And likely his nose. She sent him reeling, literally stumbling backwards. At least he had the good sense to drop her before he toppled over. The woman landed in a crouch, quickly standing straight again and staring down at him, body rigid with shock.

How must she look in that moment? Cheeks flushed, hair mussed, lipstick smeared. She panted, heart still hammering in her chest. He had…he had…  And _she… **back!**_

The music was comically loud. Unnecessary. No one was dancing.

Everyone was looking right at her. At him.

 _She_ looked at him.

He was sitting on the floor, wiping indigo blood from his face. Chichi, however, was drawn to his lips – smiling? _Piccolo_ was _smiling_. Not a smirk. A real smile. Of course, it was nothing like Goku’s goofy grin, but… “Are you drunk? You must be drunk. Honestly you can’t just kiss someone like that – you need to _ask_ first my God and –”

“Sorry,” he sounded almost sheepish – as sheepish as he could _ever_ sound, that is. Chichi stopped, momentarily lost for words. “I just had to see if it was the same.”

“The same –” the woman spluttered, “ – if _what_ was the same? The same as that time in the _kitchen_? The same as **_Beth_** – _oh yeah, I saw that you **jerk**!_ ” Her shouts were getting breathless, losing strength and volume even as the pitch of her voice rose. “Of course it was the same, it was a _kiss_ for the love of God. _They’re all the same_! A kiss is a kiss and they are all the sa –”

“But they’re not.”

Why was no one else talking? Agreeing with her? Why was the damn music still playing so loudly?!

Had she been able to look at anything else, _anyone_ else, she would have seen Gohan’s wide eyes, open mouth. She would have seen Krillin, Bulma, Eighteen, – even Vegeta – gaping with a myriad of shock, amusement, and confusion...as well as mild irritation on Bulma’s part. But she could only look at Piccolo.

Piccolo. Picking himself up off of the floor.

She wanted to demand that he elaborate, explain himself. What did that mean, they _weren’t_ all the same? He could not possibly mean… Her heart skipped a beat, as her formerly-flushed face drained of color. She felt faint, and wobbled on her feet.

 

Both Gohan and Piccolo stepped forward, alarmed.

“Mom! Don’t pass out at a _party!_ ”

Piccolo did not touch her again, but waited to gauge whether or not she truly was going to faint. It quickly became apparent that she was not going to lose consciousness any time soon. Relieved, he took a half-step back.

Gohan, however, took his mother’s hand and insistently tugged her off of the dance floor. He gave Piccolo a look that clearly said “follow.”

“Gohan, Gohan _I’m fine!_ ” the namekian watched intently as Chichi pulled her arm away from her son. He was a few steps behind, casting a few threatening glares at people who were paying the odd little trio what he thought to be too much attention. His ears perked, “just – I need to talk to Piccolo!”

“I was thinking something along the same lines,” he rumbled, just loud enough to be heard over the music. Piccolo’s heart was still beating quickly, beating hard. Pounding in his chest, really. He barely felt the leftover pulsing of blood in his face courtesy of Chichi’s fist; whether it were due to his species’ incredible rate of healing, or because he was too nervous and excited to pay heed to that sort of thing, he did not know. Piccolo pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger, straightening out the cartilage, ears pinning as the action cracked newly formed bonds in the healing tissue. He still was far from thinking straight, from having a clear line of thought as to how he was going to express his...his _feelings._ Damn them. Feelings were confusing.

However, it had dawned on him that _just kissing someone_ was a rather poor course of action. He was feeling more than a little sheepish, and wiped what was hopefully the last of the blood from his face, smearing it on his cheek, his lips, and soiling his sleeve.

“We need…” Chichi hesitated, looking between Piccolo and Gohan. The namekian shrugged, glanced at the youngest of the trio. “To...to talk, _just_ me and Piccolo.”

“Aw but -”

“No buts!”

Piccolo smirked, he could not help it. She was incredibly authoritative when she needed to be, which, he relented, was a great deal of the time when one’s life was so mixed up with alien fighters…

“Just… Just go dance with someone, _please_!”

Gohan pouted, but did not argue after that. He trudged away, but not without glancing back at them several times. The boy’s eye met Piccolo’s and he flushed, scurrying away.

“I appo-”

“Yeah, you had better apologize!” Chichi snapped, putting her hands on her hips. She was incredibly cute when she was frazzled, but he put it from his mind. It was time to listen, not think about the way her anger and embarrassment turned her cheeks the color of rose petals. Nor how she used to terrify him and now made his chest constrict in an entirely different feeling. Well, she still scared him, just a little. “What’s the meaning of this? Giving me the cold shoulder and then _kissing_ me?”

“ _You_ gave _me_ ‘the cold shoulder,’” Piccolo pointed out, cocking an eyebrow and feeling a spike of annoyance. “Telling me you didn’t want to care.”

Chichi gaped at him, fiery eyes wide. He could not decide if she looked like she wanted to slap him again or not.

“That’s not what I _meant_! I…” she fell silent, wrapping her arms around her shoulders. “That isn’t… How I meant it to be interpreted.”

Piccolo shrugged; he had figured as much, but that did not make it any less painful, any less of an ache in his chest. “I meant… I meant that I didn’t want to be hurt again!” She looked down, hugging herself tightly.

So that was it.

“And what makes you so sure that I’ll hurt you?”

His voice was so quiet, so soft. Chichi looked up, brows furrowing.

“It...it’s just that…” she hesitated, fingers tightening on her biceps. "You're a warrior. Like him." She bit her lip, hard, "even if you're not like him at all, you're a warrior, and you're solitary and stubborn and I need someone who's going to hold me at night and has a job and can offer me and my children security and -" one hand flew to her mouth to stifle a sob. "And I can’t go through it again. I can’t go through the fear of losing a partner, a child, again - time after time! I’ve lost count of how many times you boys have worried me!” She could not stop the tears now; they brimmed in her eyes and spilled over and ran down her cheeks like rain on a window. “No matter h-how much I lo-” Chichi shook her head, not that word. Not that word. “How much I care for you, I can’t go through what I went through with G-Goku again.”

“You won’t.” How could he sound so goddamn confident, she wondered, wiping her tears on her hand and smearing makeup all over her face. “I’m not Goku, and I never will be like him.”

He was nothing like Goku, and yet he was the same.

“How can you make that promise?” Chichi had meant for her voice to come strong, a yell, but it was barely a whisper. She looked up at him, chocolate eyes pink and watery and puffy from crying. Cheeks mottled red and nose getting ready to join her eyes. That horrid crying-flush she hated had probably spread to her neck and chest, her shoulders. “If - if you and I become... _something_...then how am I supposed to know that you’ll be there forever, that you won’t get some wild itch in a few years and fly the coop like Goku did! The first chance he got! And again!” Her shoulders shook with the force of her sobs, and she brought her other hand up to cover her mouth and nose.

“I…” Piccolo took a step closer, and she stayed where she was, despite a small part of her brain telling her to take a step back. His hand gently cupped her face. “If I haven’t shown you otherwise by now…”

“You’re always here,” Chichi relented, biting her lip to stop it from quivering, hands dropping to wring anxiously in front of her chest. “You helped me when I was pregnant, you took me to the hospital. But…” She remembered the way he would disappear for a day or so, dashing her hopes that he was there to stay; only to find out that he had felt as if he had been intruding and was just meditating in the woods behind the house. Never far. Never more than a call away should she need his help. Need a friend. “What do you want? Out of this? Of me?”

Talking put things in perspective, made things make sense. She could feel her shoulders growing lighter as pleasant memories of Piccolo flooded her brain. The look in his face… It was different. It was something almost unknown.

“I don’t know,” he sounded honest enough, felt it, as he stroked her cheek with his thumb, “but I do not want things to go back to where they were, nor do I want them to stay as they are.” Piccolo’s hand shifted to her hair, the back of her head. “Forward, is the word, I presume.”

She laughed then, a teary laugh, but a laugh all the same, and nodded slowly. That felt...better. It felt better than an _“okay, a promise is a promise!”_ even if that phrase had made her heart sing all those years ago. This felt more natural, as if it had potential, somehow. He wanted something, even if he did not quite know what it was at that moment. “I… want to be around you. And the kids.” He shrugged, ears twitching.

“Me too.”

And she meant it. “I know…I know you can’t guarantee that everything’s going to be fine, no one can but…” she tilted her head slightly to the side, inching closer to him. “I think…”

What did she think? This was happening quickly, even if it had been months, maybe even a year or more in the making. “I think we need to go slow, if we do this, yeah? I rushed into a marriage when I was young, and then you’re completely clueless - not in the same way that Goku was, of course. Oh, you know what I’m saying!”

Piccolo snorted, and let her hug him. He even rubbed her shoulders.

“Slow is fine. But…”

Chichi looked up, noting a smirk on his lips - a playful one. She had never seen it before. “We have kissed, twice. And then some.”

She raised an eyebrow, pursing her lips.

“Yeah…?”

“What’s one more? When we’re both expecting it, I mean?”

Chichi pressed her cheek into his chest, closing her eyes for a moment.

“Do you have a tissue? ‘Cuz I’m not kissin’ anyone with my face like this.” Piccolo must have conjured one, or made it, or whatever he did, because he awkwardly dabbed at her face with a soft cloth before she giggled and took it from him. The makeup was already ruined, she knew, so she cared little as she scrubbed away all the moisture from her face. “How do I look?”

Piccolo’s thumbs smoothed the puffy skin beneath her eyes, hands slipping down to cup her face once more. Chichi’s fingers touched his chest, her heart skipping a beat as their lips met for the first time in a planned kiss…

 

Gohan wandered around the party while still keeping his parental figures in sight.

Crying...bad. Lots and _lots_ of crying from his mother. The boy swallowed. Perhaps this had been a worse idea than he could have predicted. Gohan chewed his lip, watching as Piccolo touched her face, as his mother cried some more. Then… He sucked in his breath as Chichi hugged Piccolo. And then…

Gohan had to contain a whoop and jump for joy when the two kissed. As it turned out, he could not keep all of his excitement in, and he whipped around, nearly bumping into someone else.

“Oh, hi Beth.” Gohan, empathic by nature, could sense the blonde’s discontent, disappointment, as well as something else he was having trouble identifying. She wore a smile, a soft, slightly sad smile, and her eyes were watching the same scene he had been.

Guilt bubbled up in Gohan’s stomach. She was never supposed to be a part of this. That was the one thing he had failed to calculate… Piccolo actually managing to get a second date, let alone a third, fourth, and fifth, with anyone besides his mother was something on which he had not planned. “I guess I owe you an apology… and an explanation.”

“Huh?” the spunky bartender looked down at him, confused. “Oh, hey Gohan. An explanation? Of…?”

The teenager sighed, and offered her an arm.

“Do you mind if I explain while dancing? I sorta promised my mom that I’d dance with any pretty girls who wanted to dance with me,” he refrained from adding that he had been planning on cutting in at some point in the evening, if only to give Piccolo and his mother some bonding time...and because he thought Beth was very pretty. But that was unimportant to the situation at hand. He led the bartender out onto the dance floor, and began a rather sophisticated waltz for someone dancing with a partner quite a bit taller than he was. He had yet to hit his growth spurt, assuming he had not inherited his mother’s genetics in terms of potential vertical growth.

“Where to begin,” Gohan said contemplatively as the two found the count. It was quite a long story, after all! “I suppose I can skip over most of the alien invasion stuff, and the android-cyborg people. I still don’t really get what Eighteen is. Anyway, ummm…”

Beth interrupted him, an action for which Gohan was grateful. He had a tendency to ramble, even in his papers. His mother was making him work on it before he started - there he was again! Rambling!

“You said you had an explanation, as if there was some grand plan behind the past few months?” Gohan decided that she did not sound angry. _Good_.

“Yeah, y’see,” the boy inhaled, picking a starting point. “It all started when Bulma’s invitation came in the mail, and I heard my mom trying to convince Piccolo that he should come to the party too…”

His master plan came out over the course of two songs. How he and Bulma had picked two potentially terrible dates for his mother and Piccolo, and how he had figured that Piccolo driving would give the two of them time to bond in a neutral setting. How he had been convinced that his mother and mentor had feelings for each other but neither were willing or ready to admit to it.

“I hadn’t counted on you actually wanting to give Piccolo a try. I mean, he’s sort of…” Gohan laughed, shrugging. “Hard to explain, and hard to be around, sometimes.” His face grew serious. “I’m really, really sorry that your feelings were hurt. I didn’t mean for that happen.”

“So,” Beth allowed him to spin her around once, even ducking under his arm good-naturedly. “You were trying to get your mom and Piccolo together by setting them up with different people?”

“It works in the movies!” Gohan laughed, and then jerked his head back, gesturing to his mother and mentor, now on the dance floor. Chichi was trying to teach Piccolo how to dance properly, all while the namekian looked rather fed up with the activity. “And it seems to be working for them.”

The bartender nodded, and a begrudging sigh passed through her lips.

“I’ll give you that. But why didn’t you just suggest that they go together? You could avoided a lot of drama.”

“Then they would have sat at the table while Piccolo pretended to be hating every minute of his life while Mom complained that she had no dance partner.” Gohan shrugged, “I mean, I don’t really know much about romance besides what I read in books and see in films, which aren’t the best ways to learn these sorts of things but…” the teen smiled, “Piccolo’s had a crush on my mom for a long time, and she’s always really happy to see him and goes on and on about how helpful he is and how it’s cute that he likes to play with babies and then my little brother loves Piccolo… And he’s…” Gohan realized he was once again rambling. “Well, he’s been like a father to me since I was five and half. Eh, five and three-quarters.”

“You’re quite the matchmaker, huh?” Beth said with a smile, but she still had a slightly gloomy air about her. Gohan pursed his lips.

“Hey, I have someone I’d like you to meet, if that’s okay with you, of course.”

She raised an eyebrow but nodded, amusement flicking over her features.

“Seems like you’re on a roll with this matchmaking business, so why not?” Gohan beamed, and lead the blonde through the crowds of people back to their table. Seated and looking rather bored was a handsome young man with dark hair and a scar on his face.

“Hey, Yamcha!” Gohan called, hoping that the baseball player and the bartender would hit it off. He thought they would. Even if it was just for the rest of the party. “This is my friend Beth…”

 

Chichi still was not entirely sure how she felt about her current situation; slow dancing with Piccolo - who was quite the dancer once he figured out the steps - was not a position she had ever dared to fancy. It was too intimate, too romantic… Something that she had mostly dreamt of… Goku had of course danced with her at their wedding, but anything after that...it had not happened willingly, not with the quiet, graceful gusto with which Piccolo twirled her around the dance floor. The widow’s eyes drifted back up to meet those of her partner.

“What are you looking at?” she smiled softly him.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Piccolo quipped, “but if you must know…” he looked embarrassed, nose crinkling. “My feet.”

“Your feet?” Chichi paused on the dance floor, and sure enough, Piccolo stumbled slightly once she refused to follow his lead. “Oh my Dear, you are watching your feet!” It was amusing to think of Piccolo, arguably the most graceful of all Earth’s fighter’s, needing to watch his feet while doing any sort of movement, but here she was witnessing it. She laughed, inching closer to him, losing the dance stance and embracing him instead. She laughed at the ridiculousness of circumstances, of the fates leading her to this moment, her own decisions impacting where she ended up, and then the look on Piccolo’s face.

His face was priceless. Eyes wide and slightly confused, mouth just barely open, fangs hanging decoratively behind his emerald lips. She opened her mouth to speak, to say something about how cute he looked in that moment, but she was interrupted by a rather smug little voice, and one that she knew all too well.

“I see my two favorite people are getting along again!”

“Gohan!” Chichi rounded on the boy, crossing her arms. “I believe you have some explaining to do.” Piccolo joined her.

 

Gohan grinned at the two of them. What parents, both of them! Standing there, feet shoulder-width apart, arms crossed over their chests, staring down at him with sternness in their dark eyes.

“You two should see how scary you look,” he commented, feeling a twinge of fear at their serious faces. The teen chuckled nervously, “h-how much trouble am I in?”

“Depends,” his mother replied. “How much of this was your idea?”

“I have a feeling that this result was his end goal,” Piccolo drawled, fingers drumming on his bulging bicep.

Gohan snorted, but he could not suppress a grin from spreading across his face. “Well, Kid?”

“I can’t really deny it,” he admitted, biting his lip and dipping his chin in an attempt to look innocent. “I came up with the idea because Piccolo had a crush on you, Mom, and I -”

“I did not!” Gohan raised an eyebrow, giving the namekian a pointed look. “I…”

The teen rolled his eyes before picking up where he left off. Piccolo could deny it all he wanted, but Gohan knew that Piccolo’s feelings towards Chichi had been shifting ever since the three years spent training for the androids. He suspected that his mother did as well.

“As I was saying,” he continued, “Piccolo’s crush, then what with Dad dying and all, then he was so helpful around the house…” Gohan realized he was once again rambling, and making very little sense at that. “You get where I’m going, right? I wanted you two to at least try a relationship…” he sighed, “and although it does appear that I have succeeded,” the boy bowed low, “I did not mean to cause anyone any harm - physical, emotional, or otherwise." He looked up, hoping to see mercy in their eyes.

"Well..." Chichi sighed, running a hand through escaped locks of hair. "I suppose I'm not all that mad at you... But you're on baby duty for a week, got it?"

Gohan's face split in a wide grin, and he nodded enthusiastically. His mother shook her head at him, but her lips were twitching,  easing up into a smile. “And you have to promise to not play at matchmaking ever again, got it? You got lucky this time.” For a moment, Earth’s Greatest Hero contemplated pointing to Yamcha and Beth, who seemed to have hit it off if their dance moves meant anything, but he decided against it. He could only be so lucky a few times. Push his mother too much and… Well, he would be a month’s worth of homework to complete in a day. He nodded.

“Deal!”


	16. Rewrite My Love Song

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has shared this journey with me, whether you’ve been here from the beginning or have picked it up along the way, thank you for sticking with it through the end.
> 
>  
> 
> Although this ending is truly to all of you, it is dedicated in particular to my best friend, L. Thank you for all that you’ve done for me, and know that I love you more than any words in the English language strung together could possibly describe. To best friends and roleplay partners everywhere who push someone to be a better writer.

Everything comes to an end, Piccolo thought, watching Chichi say her farewells to Bulma and the rest of the gang. He _definitely_ caught her apologizing for stealing the spotlight. The namekian snorted, shaking his head. It had not been her fault, after all. _Ah, wait,_ his ears picked up on his name.

“I had no idea Piccolo was going to do that,” Chichi was not exactly broadcasting her voice, but she sure as hell was not whispering either. The former demon shook his head, rolling his eyes. “Congratulations on getting engaged, by the way.”

“Yeah, well, tell him that next time he wants to do something like that to make sure it’s not my thunder he’s stealing!” Bulma laughed, “but seriously, good for you two. It’s about time.”

Chichi made her way over to him, and Piccolo held out his arm. She happily slipped her hands around the offered elbow.

“When did you become such a gentleman, huh?

“Who knows?” Piccolo replied dryly, a smirk quirking his lips. For the first time since… Well, the first time in a very long time, he felt as if he belonged. Like his place in the Son - in Chichi’s house. He decided to contemplate that feeling later. “Where’s Gohan?”

“Getting Goten from the babysitter. I hope he behaved…” Goten was as close to angelic as a baby could be, in Piccolo’s experience. It was Trunks that had the tendency to cause trouble. He probably got that from his father… “Oh, there he is! Gohan, what took so long?”

“Trunks was having some separation issues,” the boy explained, cradling Goten in his arms. “Hey, since you’re here, Piccolo, does this mean that we don’t have to have to use the taxi-plane Bulma had sent us earlier?”

“You want me to drive you home in a car? It’ll take… two, three hours?” Piccolo glanced at Chichi, who was looking skyward to help her calculate it out. Gohan was faster.

“Two hours and fifteen minutes if there’s no traffic and you maintain a steady speed.” Piccolo kept his eyes on Chichi, who sighed.

“It would be faster to fly...but I’ve had just about all the excitement I can take for one night already. Driving is fine, if Piccolo’s okay with it.” Gohan practically jumped for joy, before settling and cooing to Goten. “He’s excited…”

The namekian grunted, and he shrugged. He was completely fine with driving the little family he had managed to join home. It meant that he was guaranteed a little more time with them. “You’re sure you don’t mind?” Chichi leaned her head against Piccolo’s bicep. She sounded sleepy, and it brought a smile to his face.

“Not at all.”

 

Goten’s carrier doubled as a car seat. Piccolo took one look at the thing and stepped aside to let Chichi get it all set up in the backseat. It took several minutes, and he suggested at least once that Gohan just held the baby. Chichi did not even respond, other than to wave her hand in dismissal. Finally, the car seat was secured and everyone was buckled in safely. The namekian rolled his eyes; in the time it had taken everyone to get situated, he could have flown the lot of them back to Mount Paozu. Well, that may have been a stretch.

“Do you have that Depeche Mode CD I gave you? Can we listen to that?”

Piccolo carefully poked the button indicating the CD player, letting Gohan’s music of choice fill the car. In the rearview mirror, he witnessed Gohan wiggle in excitement before beginning to passionately lip-synch. The namekian rolled his eyes, but a smile quirked his lips. Even Chichi was humming softly. Shaking his head, Piccolo drove off, towards the lonely, beautiful mountain range that was the Son family’s home, that had somehow become _his_ home.

 

Chichi’s voice started to sound dozy to her own ears, sleep beginning to cloud her mind as her eyes drooped. She felt her head nod once or twice, each time jerking up with a startled snort. Attractive, the mother thought snidely. Chichi shook her head, rubbing her eyes.

"We're a ways off from the mountain," Piccolo's voice, a low rumble, was pleasant, almost a lullaby. "Give it another hour."

"Mmm," Chichi nodded, turning to look at him. His eyes were on the road, peering carefully around between the headlights. He looked as if he belonged. Oh of course he belongs! Chichi chided herself, however could he not? Especially after everything... "You're doing alright? Not tired, I mean?"

He replied with a grunt, but his lips twitched. "Oh right, you're too strong to really get tired. All that meditation makes you impervious to the need to sleep."

"Not impervious," Piccolo snorted, and she caught him rolling the one eye she could see. He glanced at her, "I have simply trained my body to gain its rest while doing something slightly more...productive."

"H-Hmm," Chichi snorted, eyes soft. Gohan and Goten were snoozing in the back, snoring quietly. "Alright, Tough Guy." Maybe he would be more inclined to sleeping when their - IF their relationship reached that point...

Chichi had no memory of drifting off to sleep. The next thing she knew was Piccolo gently touching her shoulder. Gohan was already toddling towards the door, Goten in his arms.

She allowed Piccolo to help her to her feet, stumbling slightly on the uneven ground. He caught her with ease, pausing a moment as she steadied herself. Chichi thanked him with a squeeze of her hand on his bicep.

By the time the odd couple made it into the house, Gohan had managed to get Goten into a fresh diaper, and was struggling to get the boy into a onesie. Chichi laughed and shook her head.

"I give up," Gohan yawned, abandoning the infant once his mother was near. Chichi caught him by the arm and kissed him on the cheek.

"Thank you, Baby." Gohan turned back and threw his arms around her, Chichi's lips curling into a tired smile. A moment later, the preteen turned his attention to Piccolo, and Chichi could not hide her joy.

In that moment, even though their future was uncertain, Chichi felt as she had a family again, a whole family. It felt right. She felt...she felt as if something that had been missing in her life was found again.

 

A very sleepy Gohan had just crawled into bed, and Goten was settling into his crib. Piccolo waited awkwardly on the landing, unsure of proper protocol for a...a date? Was this what this was? He supposed it was a date. There had been dancing and kissing and talking. That was a date, right? The warrior's ears twitched, and he decided to not think more about it. Leaning casually against the wall, Piccolo listened to the sounds of Chichi getting ready for bed. He sincerely hoped that he was not breaching some sort of social code; perhaps Chichi would be better suited than Gohan to explaining some of the more complex but seemingly common niceties of civilized life.

The quiet click and louder creak of an opening door hit his ears, and Piccolo looked up, ears perking and eyes widening ever so slightly. His weight shifted from foot to foot, and he straightened his spine, losing the nonchalant air he had assumed only minutes prior. He blinked as Chichi stepped out into the hall.

Although she had looked absolutely stunning at the start of the evening, like someone one might see on a movie poster, on one of those huge billboards in the city, this was more suited to her. A simple pink nightgown and white shawl wrapped around her shoulders, and hair flowing freely down her back. _Yes_ , he thought, _this is Chichi._ He found himself smiling.

"What?" she tilted her head, one brow slightly higher than the other in a quizzical expression. Piccolo shrugged, and she paused a friendly distance away, bordering on intimate. “You were looking at me all googly eyed,” she said with almost shy smile, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“You look pretty,” he grunted, shoulders rising and falling once more in a gesture of nonchalance. Chichi must have seen through it, or been too amused by his oddly-timed attempt at flattery to care about him shrugging. She slipped her arms around his right elbow, resting her forehead against his bicep.

“Life is weird,” the petite woman murmured, and he felt her fingers twitch on his arm. “I mean, just a few weeks ago I was saying that it felt weird for the two of us to be going out together on different dates...and now we’re here. That’s… that’s weird. Right?”

Piccolo chuckled, his left hand reaching around to rest on her shoulder.

“If I remember correctly, the word you used was ‘odd,’” the namekian replied dryly, smirking. Chichi’s laugh was tired and soft, and he nudged her gently. “Go to bed, we have all the time in the world to talk tomorrow.” The woman sighed, and he thought that she perhaps pressed her forehead more closely to his arm for less than a heartbeat.

“I...suppose.”

It occurred to him that Chichi could be reluctant to let go. How many times had she let her partner out of her arms, only to spend years alone?

“We can do a late breakfast,” a promise quietly permeated through his voice. Chichi looked up, and she smiled at him.

“That’s called ‘brunch,’ Sweetie.”

“Whatever you want to name the damn thing is fine by me.” Piccolo saw her eyes drooping, silly humans and their rather weak bodies. “Come on, off to bed with you.” Although it was less than fifteen steps to reach her bed, he could not restrain himself from scooping her up and carrying her. Chichi wrapped her arms around his neck as he started to stand up.

“What, you’re not staying?” she asked groggily, a half-asleep smile gracing her lips. The moonlight filtering in from the window cast her face in a blue white light, reflecting in her eyes.

“Not tonight,” Piccolo replied, voice soft. “I’ll be back in the morning.” Chichi pushed herself up off the mattress.

“At least take the couch - you end up there more often than not anyway.” She reached up to him, caressing his face. Piccolo’s eyes fluttered shut at her gentle touch, and when he opened them, Chichi was smiling, cupping his face in her hands. “Well, it’s common courtesy to give a lady a goodnight kiss to show that a date went well, and that you want to have a second.” He raised an eyebrow.

“Oh yeah?” Her breath was sweet on his lips. “Well if you insist…” Piccolo pulled Chichi close to his chest and kissed her softly on the mouth, before pushing her gently back down onto the bed. “Now _goodnight_ ,” he whispered, and pressed his lips to her forehead. Chichi laughed quietly and closed her eyes. He glanced heavenward, gaze blocked by the ceiling, and tucked the sheets around her shoulders.

He was going to kill Gohan. Depending upon how this all played out, anyway.

 

** The End. **

 

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, Goku doesn’t have a problem with this perfect amazing relationship, if anyone was wondering. He’s been watching from Otherworld when he thinks to do it, and is happy that his family is happy and whole. He’s also pleased that Piccolo feels like he belongs somewhere.
> 
> Piccolo and Chichi get married and have two namekian babies that you can read about in other stories (located on both FFN and AO3).
> 
>  
> 
> Check back for more stories about these two!


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